To Become Extraordinary
by Felixthekatt
Summary: A girl with her own confused past is confronted by the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

Janna glanced at the clock and sighed. She was fairly certain that the clock had not moved, and hadn't for ages. It had annoyingly read "8:59" for the past hour at least. It was infuriating.

Work was almost over. As a clerk for the Wayne Foundation, a charitable organization that provided services and goods to the families of killed policeman, she was responsible for calling donors and scheduling donation appointments, for any extra clothing, toys, books, etc, that they may be willing to give away. It was exhausting and tedious, and barely a day went by that she was not flooded with irate callers screaming at her for calling too early, too late, or too often, as if it was up to her.

"Quitting time!" Her manager screamed. Finally! The clock had finally ticked off the final minute, and Janna finished her last notation and clocked out quickly. With a curt goodbye to her coworkers, she sped out the door, and it took all of her self control to not sprint to her car.

For once, she had someplace to be. And that in itself was a special occasion. Janna's older sister, the wife of a successful accountant, had been invited to the lavish fundraiser being thrown by Bruce Wayne for Harvey Dent. Her sister thought anything political was beneath her, and so had passed on her invitation to Janna, who, despite working under the huge Wayne umbrella, was too lowly to ever be invited herself. She would normally never consider going to a party where she knew no one, but she hadn't had a night out in ages, and was determined to have some measure of social interaction. The party officially started at 9, but her sister swore no one who mattered ever arrived before 10:00, and the host himself probably wouldn't even get there until 11:00.

She parked the car in the poorly lit parking lot of her equally poor apartment building, and hastily made her way inside and upstairs, towards her small one bedroom apartment. She showered quickly, and gathered everything she'd need to get ready.

She was a bit nervous about the dress. It was lovely really, form fitting black satin, with a sweetheart neckline and a sleek, slim skirt. It was simple and flattering, which Janna loved, but she'd gotten it off a sale rack at a cheap department store, and she was terrified everyone at the party would smell "discount" a mile away. She hoped that something simple and classic, rather than vibrant and intricate, would avoid the "upper-class scrutiny" she was so afraid of.

The dress fit her like a glove, a bit more snug than she would have liked, but little did she know how stunning she looked in it. Janna was, by most standards, a knock-out. She was taller than most, and in her borrowed heels she was a model's height of 5'10. She had curves in all the right places (and the dress showed them all), and her tiny waist exaggerated those curves all the more. The dress set off her dramatic coloring beautifully, standing in sharp contrast to her pale skin and high clear color, and matched exactly the pitch black shine of her long hair. With her hair swept up into an elegant knot, her eyes, an unusual shade of silvery grey and framed in bristly black lashes, sparkled in her lovely face.

But Janna saw none of these things. Instead, she saw only the skinny white scars that marred her upper arms (to be true, they were also on her stomach and lower back as well, but since the dress covered those, she did not focus on them now), and the long sickly white scar that went from her right ear to the base of her neck on the left side. It was true, the neck scar was the worse, and the dark color of the dress made it stand out even more. She fastened a thick rhinestone choker around her neck, knew it looked cheap, but was willing to make that sacrifice to hide that awful scar as best she could. It peeked out, reminding her of its presence, below the base, but was covered for the most part. A gauzy silver shawl, also borrowed, covered her arms if she was careful, and made her look more elegant as well.

She wore little makeup, and never had any interest in learning to apply it masterfully. A few swipes of mascara and some lip gloss were all that was needed. Tonight, however, it would have come in handy

_I'm pathetic. 26 and I still wear Bonnebell like I'm in middle school, _she thought moodily, angry with her lack of sophistication, which rarely ever bothered her.

With a last look in the mirror and a spray of some body splash picked up at Bath & Body Works, and she was out the door, a little clutch in hand. She had scheduled to be picked up by a cab, too embarrassed to go to such a party in her beat up car, and thankfully, the cabbie was already there.

She slid gratefully into the cab, gave the address to the driver, and settled in, wishing the butterflies in her stomach would choke themselves and die. She felt uncomfortable, as if someone was staring at her, and looked up to find that someone actually was. Rather than focusing on the road, the cabbie was driving while decidedly staring at the cleavage exposed in her snug dress. With an indignant snort, Janna pulled the dressy wrap up around her, and the cabbie was forced to look at less interesting things, including where he was going.

Finally there, she huffily got out and slammed the door, and threw in the window her cab fare. Staring up the buildings grand steps, the butterflies came back full force, and she felt a huge lump develop in her throat. Summoning her strength, she forced herself up the stairs, inside, and up the elevator, towards her one night of feeling special.


	2. Chapter 2

Once inside the elevator, she was mercifully saved from having to push any buttons (she was shaking badly), by the other guests who were attending. She was the last to step out of the elevator, and she followed the other guests to the main hall.

A uniformed servant took hold of her elbow as she walked, and Janna started in surprise.

_He knows I'm a fake! _She panicked.

"Excuse me miss, do you have your invitation?" The servant said kindly. He was an older man, with soft eyes and a gentle voice.

"Y-yes. Right here". Felling ridiculously stupid, she reached into her clutch, pulled out the embossed invitation, and handed it to the man.

_Hmm. They really make servants wear such ridiculous things? A suit with tails?! He looks like a penguin. _The combination of the image she had and her nervousness made Janna giggle aloud, and the servant looked at her oddly.

"Very good miss. Go on ahead, and have a good time. And if I may suggest, the bar is right around the corner", he winked and smiled, gesturing to the far end.

Janna could feel him looking after her as she walked away.

She found her way to the bar, hoping a drink (or three) would help her nerves. As she ordered, a young man, exquisitely dressed and most obviously from money, approached her and tried to chat. Knowing her sister would kill her if she walked away, Janna forced herself to smile politely and answer his benign small talk.

Thirty minutes later, Janna was kicking herself for coming to this stupid thing. Mr. Money had been chatting steadily for the past half-hour, never noticing that he had long since lost his audience's attention. He was boasting about his investments, his success, his power over the entire universe. To emphasize his points, he's point a lot and pull at her wrap, which made her nervous and set her on edge. But she knew no one, and so had no escape.

_Please, please, let me go home and read a book, _she wished desperately.

Which was why, for the first time, she thanked God for creating Bruce Wayne. When he swept in on a helicopter with three (skanky) women on his arm, Mr. Money scurried off to pump Wayne's hand and chat about their equal shares in the universe. Pompous as always, Wayne shook off the annoyance, and commanded the attention of the room to speak the praises of Harvey Dent. Janna was amused. It amazed her that Wayne had found someone arrogant enough to match him. Glad when his speech was over, and free of the annoying presence of her pesky suitor, Janna was content to watch the guests mingle, like vibrant parrots flittering around.

It was serene. It was predictable. It made Janna tired. She had gotten all dolled up to feel special, and alone in this sparkling crowd she had never felt less special in her life. She had never felt more sad or more lonely than she did at that very moment.

That depressing thought had barely crossed her mind, when all hell decided to open up around her.

"Ladies and Gentleman…" The voice was oddly sinister, high and mocking. Even in her heels, Janna couldn't see through the crowd to find the speaker, but she felt an unexplained cold tingle of terror run down her spine. The voice was speaking again, something about Harvey Dent…

"We won't be intimidated by thugs like you!" Janna could just see between people now. Some brave older man was standing proud, and Janna gasped when she saw who was inches away from the poor man.

He was shocking. Purple suit that looked like it was rotting, greasy looking hair that looked like itself was molding, and garish, cracked makeup done in a perverse imitation of a clown. She had never seen anything less funny in her life.

The clown took out an evil looking blade, forcing it at the corners of the old man's mouth.

_Why won't anyone do anything! _Janna thought desperately. Everyone was just standing there, their mouths agape and frozen in fear. It was clear no one would do anything.

Her brain thought quickly, mechanically, faster than normal thought. The adrenaline fueled her quick calculating and evaluation.

_He's a bit bigger than me. It's hard to tell how built he is with that suit coat, but he's certainly bigger than me. That's okay. I've fought bigger and stronger men before and won. I'm strong. I'm fast. Maybe I can buy some time. _

Looking quickly around, she saw she was near the buffet, by the meat carving station. She quickly, quietly, picked up the knife, and propping her leg on the table, she slit her dress from the thigh down, giving herself the freedom to move, to run if need be, and to fight. She shoved her way through the crowd…

But she was a moment too late. Someone else _had _decided to stand up, a girl Janna recognized from the papers and TV as Harvey Dent's girlfriend, Rachel something-or-other.

Janna rolled her eyes. _What is she going to do, yell him away? She's a little stick, and just standing there! What does she THINK will happen?!_

The clown had his knife in Rachel's face now, and the girl was cowering quickly. Janna pushed more people-statues out of the way, and stalked forward, dropping her shawl and clutch, but keeping her hold firmly on the knife.

Grabbing the clown's arm, she yanked him around and shoved him, and her voice was deadly calm, and didn't give away her fear in the least.

"She's just a little girl clown. Why don't you see how you do against a woman ?"


	3. Chapter 3

"She's just a little girl clown. Why don't you see how you do against a woman ?"

The Joker eyed her lecherously, grinning madly as he eyed her up and down, and giggled evilly at the slit dress. Before he could answer, Janna lunged with the knife, aiming squarely for his chest. He was quick, dodging and grabbing her knife-wielding hand, banging her wrist down on the table, forcing her to release the knife. She swung with her other and he caught that too. Holding her wrists, he shoved her back, hard, against the glass windows, slamming her head back.

As her head thunked against the glass, Janna had the horrible realization that she was overmatched.

_God he's strong. Stronger than I thought. Much stronger than me._

Before hopelessness set in, her resolve returned, in the blink of an eye.

_I've fought stronger before and won. I have to be faster…more resourceful. _

The clown was laughing, his face very close to hers. With all her strength and speed, she thrust her forehead directly to the bridge of his nose.

As she made contact, she heard that satisfying, sickening crunch, and a warm spray of blood splayed out. Forced back, the clown released her wrists, his hands reflexively reaching to his now very broken nose. Janna moved quickly, backfisting the side of his face with all her strength.

The Joker staggered, than straightened. And in that instant Janna had never been more terrified in her life. Dimly aware of others fighting near her, she only saw the clown, who was no longer laughing, but looking more awful and terrifying than she could ever imagine a man could look.

She had managed to make him angry.

In that realization, Janna was paralyzed in complete fear. The Joker seized her throat, and forced her back, back into the window. She felt her skull crash into window, felt the shooting pain, saw flashing spots before her eyes. She was thrown back again—the window shattered now—and she felt that terrible sensation that there was nothing but air and sky behind her, only the tips of her feet on solid ground, and the only thing keeping her from sailing to her death were the hands clenched around her throat.

Clutching at those hands for dear life, she met the eyes of the clown, black laughing eyes. His awful laugh had returned, and he giggled maniacally now.

"Let her go!" shouted a raspy voice.

_Poor choice of words, _Janna thought, and she clenched her eyes tight, preparing to meet her death.

"The Bat!" The clown snarled. He glanced at her, and Janna's terror was renewed, but he flung her to the floor. She hit the cold tile, hard, and was still.

Janna was faintly aware of what was going on, but it was as if she was in a foggy dream, permitted to only hear and see snippets. She dimly knew Batman was there, and fighting the clown—the Joker—and his thugs. She was faintly aware that the guests were stampeding away as fast as they could. She heard the Joker dangling that other girl out the window, and she knew Batman had gone after her.

She heard the Joker laugh merrily as if it was some sort of awful dream, then it was deathly quiet. Janna prayed that if she just stayed still, she'd avoid notice, but then again, she found she had no strength to open her eyes, let alone move. She desperately tried to cling to consciousness, but the black fog was clouding her vision, and soon sent her into numb oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

The Joker couldn't decide if he was pleased or not. It had, of course, been a very amusing evening. He hadn't succeeded in getting Harvey Dent, but he had scared the hell out of a large group of people, had tussled with Batman, and had lively skirmishes with two beautiful women. Throw in tossing the one out the window, and the Batman's melodramatic dive after her, and it had been a very entertaining party indeed.

The blood splattered on the floor made him chuckle.

"Who needs decorations? A splash of red is always a good touch", he muttered to himself.

His thugs were sorting through abandoned purses now, getting whatever cash and trinkets they could. It annoyed him. Didn't they know this wasn't about money?

"Clear out! Now" He boomed, and started to walk away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black form huddled on the floor. Turning, he realized it was the girl who had fought him so bravely. Foolish, sure, but brave nonetheless.

"Here pretty pretty", he called, but she made no sound or movement. He rolled her over, to get a clear view. She really was very pretty. And now he saw the cuts on her arms, and the thick scar that peeked from under the gaudy choker.

Yes, he was intrigued.

Looking around, he saw a small black purse. Cracking it open, it was sensibly packed. From his days as a petty thief, he knew women liked to pretend to be Mary Poppins, and crammed in as many unnecessary objects as possible. This—he glanced at her ID—this Janna Dunbar had only her ID, her work access card, and cash. Not a large amount, just enough for a cab ride home and a decent tip. Smart girl.

He mulled his options. He could leave her here, possibly to die from the head wound he had created, or bring her with. He quickly decided on the latter. Hoisting her over one shoulder, he followed his boys to the elevator.

"Picked out a new toy, boss?" questioned his newest, young thug, with a broad smile.

The Joker nodded towards the bags the boys were clutching.

"You all got your souvenirs. I want mine." Then for no reason, he laughed like a crazy person.

He did so like to be entertained, and this girl might prove to be very entertaining. And if not…well, that's what guns (and knives) are for.

Several cars waited outside. They were beat up looking, non-descript, but they good engines and working parts.

More of his thugs waited to drive. The Joker yanked open the door of the second car, and flopped the girl down unceremoniously on the seat. He slid in next to her, and shut the door before anyone else could get in.

He laid his head back, and closed his eyes, mulling his next step in the whole grand scheme of things.

Janna was awake, and had been for some time. But she knew enough not to betray her conscious state before she knew more. She kept her eyes shut tight, and focused on what was going on around her.

She knew she was in a car. Check. She was sitting next to the Joker. Check. From the sound of breathing in front of her, she knew someone was sitting in front, probably the driver. Check. She knew then that while there were only 2 others in the car, there were about 10 others split, probably in other cars.

Not good odds. Not good odds at all.

Opening her eyes a crack, she saw the Joker next to her, close. His eyes were closed, resting his head on the back of the seat.

She was clutching the knife. He had thrown her near it to fight Batman, and in the chaos before that black fog had taken over, she had managed to get a hold of it and grip it tight. He hadn't noticed it when he picked her up.

She knew that her chances were poor. But she also knew that a kidnap victim's chances for survival were worse if the captor got her to a new location. She knew she had to prevent that from happening. She had to get out of the car. She could face 2 now, or a dozen later. Easy decision.

With that thought, she attacked, aiming for that clown's sadistic heart.

The Joker knew he was lucky his reflexes were good. Her aim was true, she would have pierced him easily if he hadn't caught her. He punched her, hard, and for the second time that night, wrestled a knife out of her hands. Having disarmed her, he shoved her back in her seat. He wasn't angry. Certainly annoyed at himself. He should have checked her for weapons, rather than assuming a pretty girl in a dress would lie quietly.

The driver glanced in the rear view window, but continued on.

Janna was still for only a moment, then lunged again, her nails outstretched like claws, focused on ripping his face to shreds.

He was laughing hysterically now, highly amused at her little attacks. Grabbing her wrists, his laugh died as she managed to knee him in the groin. Even for him that was painful, and he locked his hands on her throat.

When a person is strangled, it is their exact reflexive reaction to grab at her attacker's hands, as if to pry them away. It is a futile, useless motion. Janna knew this. Despite the lack of oxygen and the distinct feeling of suffocation, she knew to focus on vital points. His eyes. His throat. Hell, yanking his hair would do. She did just that, yanking at the greasy green hair and pulling straight down.

It really doesn't matter how tough someone is. If their hair is pulled, they go down. That's all. And so Janna would have succeeded, except the Joker didn't feel pain as most did. It was annoying, yes, but he could withstand it.

His hold on her little throat was strong, and he continued to choke the life out of her until her eyes glazed over and the grip on his hair weakened and failed. She slumped, and immediately his hold went slack.

She was still breathing, but barely. She'd be out for some time now.

The Joker laid hid head back again, closing his eyes while humming some tune he made up as he went.

They arrived at the Joker's home. Thugs trying to sound important referred to it as "headquarters", but it was just an old apartment building in the worst part of town no one wanted to live in. The landlord had "gone missing" some time before, and so they were left to manage it themselves, happily taking over and infesting it like a particularly sinister pack of rats.

The Joker carried Janna up the stairs, over one shoulder, while thinking about possibilities. He liked possibilities. He could make them whatever he wanted.

He decided to leave her in the room next to his; he could keep her locked in the little room, but have access whenever he wanted. He kept several rooms to himself, forbidding anyone else to enter them.

Oh how he intended to play with this one…She might be the best gift he'd ever gotten, even better than Christmas.

And with that thought, he tossed her to the floor of the little room, humming "Jingle Bells" as he walked away. She could wait. Other things needed his attention first.


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours later, the Joker walked alone up the stairs in a bitter, dangerous mood. The night had definitely taken a turn for the worse. He hadn't been able to locate Dent, Batman was unseen, and his police contacts had no more information. He was thoroughly disappointed.

As he neared his main floor, he heard the sounds of a struggle. Normally that was enough to restore his good mood, but this struggle's noise was punctuated by the sounds of a woman's gasps of pain and fear. As he had no women is his group, and unless the thugs had picked up some whore on the street, there was only one person that could be. He had not told them she was for him only. They should have known better, but he had forgotten.

For some unexplained reason, he felt cold dread sink upon him. Not allowing himself to dwell on what that meant, the Joker raged up the stairs, through open the door, and even he was sickened by what he saw…and that was saying something

Janna was slumped back on the floor. At least, he assumed it was Janna. Her face was badly bruised and bloodied, so black and swollen her eyes were barely visible. Her hair was slick with congealing blood, her dress badly torn. Two men held her down on either side. The third was in front of her, his back to the Joker, undoing his pants and he leaned over her, leering in her face. The Joker had thought she was unconscious, as presumably did the three others, but Janna leapt suddenly, biting the third man's neck and tearing like a dog, ripping away a patch of skin and exposing bloodied flesh. The two holding her scrambled away in shock and disgust, while the third screamed in agony and raised his fist to hit her-

The Joker grabbed his arm before he could swing.

"You can't blame her. Who would want to kiss you?" And pulling his gun with his free hand, he shot the man between his eyes.

The two others screamed and tried to run, and he shot them, one in the face, the other in the back of the head.

Now that the situation was taken over, he looked the bodies over. They were bloody. And it couldn't be only from his bullets. One most certainly had a broken nose, another a broken jaw. The other had claw marks, like a cats', down the side of his face.

Walking over to the still form of the girl, he noticed her knuckles were bruised. Skin was under her fingernails, bits of hair clinging to her hands, stuck in the blood.

She had given them hell.

That cold, sick feeling spread over him again…

He boasted he had no rules, but it wasn't entirely true. There were things he avoided. Rape was first and foremost on the list. It wasn't from some deep, noble conviction. It was just that he was better than that. Petty, common criminals, lacking in creativity and intelligence, relied on things like rape and child-torture to instill fear. The Joker was far more resourceful than that.

He suddenly felt a desperate need to find out if they had succeeded…he didn't know why it mattered. If they had raped her…well, they were still dead, he couldn't kill them more than he already had, and she would still be raped. But for some reason, he had to know.

He hoisted her up with his left arm, and slid his right hand up her thigh under her dress. She whimpered feebly and hit him weakly with her fist. He remembered how strongly she had hit him at the party—and in the car—and now she was too weak to do much to protest. He felt the waistband of her underwear, felt it intact and undamaged. She had managed to fend them off.

He felt relief, but he shoved it aside, not wanting to try to figure out what that meant, why he cared.

He lifted her up in his arms, and carried her away, this time to the safety and protection of his own bedroom.

He laid her on the bed, and awkwardly stared down at her.

_I'm like a dog chasing a car. What the hell do I do with her now that I have her here?_

He had no idea what to do. Or why he even cared. All he knew was that she had looked him in the eye.

He always said that killing someone gave him the most intimate knowledge of that person's character. Most people were cowards in their last moments. They begged. They cried. The tried to look anywhere but at him, not wanting their last living memory to be of his disfigured face. She had not screamed. She did not cry. She didn't utter a sound. As scared as she had been, she had just looked him dead in the eye, waiting for his decision. An impressive thing.

And considering what she'd been through that night, fighting him twice, even after he treated her head like a basketball (Bounce! Bounce on the tile!), she kept fighting. Fought three of his men, caused plenty of damage…well, she was feisty. He liked feisty. She might be even more interesting than he originally thought. Especially because she seemed to have a measure of skill, not just some girl flailing wildly. She knew what she was doing. Interesting.

But that still didn't give him any clue of what he should do. It vaguely occurred to him that he should probably get her cleaned up. Heading into the small bathroom, he wet a towel with clean, cold water, and began trying to clear away the blood from the battered punching bag that was her face.

As he wiped away the blood, she started to wake. She could only manage to open one eye, and that eye was terrified. She immediately started shaking, and tried to pull away.

"Shush. I think you've had enough for one night. Take a breather tiger" he said, in what he hoped was a comforting, non-creepy tone.

Apparently not so much. She continued to shake violently, making little gasping/breathing noises that bordered on disturbing. Hmm. Maybe there would be fun after all.

The Joker sighed. This wasn't good. It occurred to him that she needed something to calm her nerves. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out a bottle of vodka, and fishing around for a minute, he also found a glass. He didn't drink much (when a man got as much enjoyment out of life as he did, why would he?), but mostly used liquor to clean out his own wounds or to numb the pain.

He poured a shot or so into the glass, but seeing how violently she shook, filled the glass entirely. Handing it to her, she gulped it down in one quick motion, and held out the glass for a refill.

He grinned. This one was full of surprises. He filled it again, and she took her time with this one, sipping a bit at a time. Her breathing was slowing down, and the shaking was subsiding.

"Better?" He asked. She started to nod, but at that moment, his (remaining) thugs apparently had just stumbled on the bodies of their comrades, and were loudly arguing about who had to clean it up (most were used to the disposable nature of their job).

Janna jumped, slopping vodka over herself, and scrambled further away from the door. The Joker gripped her to reassure her.

"It's alright. They won't touch you. You have my word. I may do some…odd things, but I always keep my word."

He expected her to scramble even further away, but as the thugs voices got louder and closer, she ended up nearly in his lap, clinging to him as though her life depended on it. In her mind, it probably did.

The voices subsided, and she seemed to relax a bit, though she downed her remaining vodka remarkably fast. It dawned on him then that, with the amount of times her head had gotten beaten in and jostled, she probably shouldn't have liquor. He always had these responsible thoughts a few minutes too late.

_A shower. A shower always helps! _A helpful voice provided. But…how did he intend to get her in the shower? With her in a panicked state and several shots consumed, it was doubtful she could walk. And he would probably have to undress her. And while the idea of rape was repugnant to him (that had never been his intention…play with her, torture her a bit, maybe use her as a hostage, sure…but never rape) he was a criminally insane _man_, who might get too interested to see where all of her scars were. He didn't trust himself with that.

She was slumped on the bed again, unconscious. He realized he needed to stop debating and needed to get her under water fast. He lifted her quickly, carried her into the bathroom and placed her gently in the small tub, dress and all. He turned the water on, set it on just a tick below lukewarm, enough to startle her awake and sober her up. She jolted as the water hit her, and shrieked.

"Wakey Wakey!" he laughed, amused, and left her in the tub while he went back into his room, intending to nap while she showered.

He was just dozing off, when he heard her, and tensing, assuming that another stupid thug had decided to play and needed death. He rushed into the bathroom, only to find her still curled up in the tub, the now long-cold water dousing over her, crying pathetically.

The cold, sick feeling hit him again. It was extraordinarily painful to watch something that had been so beautiful, so strong, now reduced to this pitiful thing huddled in his tub. For once, he didn't need to think or wonder what to do. An instinct he didn't know he had took over, and he lifted her out of the tub, into his room and into his bed.

(Author's Note: Before anyone comments, yes, I know this seems to lovey dovey for the Joker. Hold all judgments!

For one, I don't think anyone, no matter how insane, is completely insane/evil or completely good. I think there are times when the worst serial killer can be tender, and I think the best saint can be cruel.

That said, just because he's _acting_ sweet, it doesn't mean he doesn't have something up his sleeve. He is the Joker, after all.

I do have a few tricks for this one. But if it sucks, let me know, and I won't bother!)

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	6. Chapter 6

**(First off, thanks for all the wonderful reviews and help. It's much appreciated. Secondly, this is where it gets a little messy and weird. Promise, truck on through to the end of chapter 8, and it'll make sense, and sets the tone for the fun to come)**

She had fallen asleep, or maybe fallen unconscious? It was a good thing too. The Joker stayed awake, sitting up alertly on the bed, looking more unsettling than ever. Every now and again he glanced over at her, as his brain whirled ahead.

He was not really a planner. He came off as one, because his brain worked so fast he was always four steps ahead of everyone else. But he did not set out to _plan. _He just…did.

For instance, he never had a plan for this girl. She was just a pretty, feisty little thing. He liked feisty. It made it much more fun to break their spirit and make them cower. After a few rounds, usually the mere hint of his laugh in the next room was enough to send them scrambling.

This one…well, she was different. She was intriguing. She was damned confusing.

At the "party" (he used the term loosely. The champagne had been terrible, and therefore the party couldn't have been very good) the girl had been a picture of confidence. Every other person in the room had cowered. Dent's little pet had opened her big mouth, but had frozen on the spot when he had come near her. She seemed to melt, and her fear had been almost tangible.

Janna hadn't even hesitated. She had been completely sure of herself. Confident. Powerful. Freakin hot. Hell, even when being held down and assaulted, she had shown no fear. Never whimpered or cried or begged. Cornered and definitely beat, she had ripped out a man's neck without any thought at all.

Then, when all danger was gone, and she was safe…that's when she crumbled. Huddled in a corner, shy and terrified. Covering her arms, ducking her chin to cover her neck. Like she was ashamed of _him_ seeing _her _scars.

It was almost funny.

But more importantly, it could be useful. To make that happen, he needed to know more. It was still dark. Maybe 4 in the morning. She was out, would be for some time. He moved soundlessly, a good habit he had picked up as a thief, and slipped out of the room. He went one floor down, where the thugs usually crashed. Now they were three short, but he was sure they'd all be together, too afraid to be caught by him alone. He wasn't disappointed.

"Hey boss…d-did you need something?" said the one closest to the door. He never bothered learning names.

"I'm going out. I'll be a while….by the way…if any of you have ideas with the girl…don't."

It was a short drive. He didn't expect to be long. He didn't even intend to get out of the car. He just wanted to see where she lived. How many cops were there. But when he pulled up to her building (he kept glancing at her ID to make sure he got the address right) he was surprised again. It was a shabby building, in a not-so-great part of town. Not the kind of place a pretty girl living by herself should be. But it was quiet. It was normal.

No cop cars. No sobbing relatives. Just silence, the normal street traffic at 4 in the morning. Was it possible no one had realized she was gone?

God. It was almost too simple.

He laughed, and got out of the car, and walked into the building. No one noticed, or maybe it was just that no one cared. Up three floors, and he was at her door. Using her key, he unlocked the door and quietly moved in, his gun ready in case someone was in fact inside. An angry boyfriend perhaps. Maybe a goldfish.

Nothing. Complete silence. Switching on the light, he looked around the apartment, trying to get an idea of what this girl _did._ The apartment itself was shabby. The walls had been poorly spackled and repainted, the carpet threadbare. But it was spotlessly clean. The furniture was nicely arranged, and what was there, was of excellent quality; furniture that had no place in this run down building. He walked through her living room, noting the perfectly coordinated colors, down to the ridiculous decorative pillows, and into her bedroom.

Small, but comfortable, with a big bed. He didn't pay much attention to that. He went straight into her closet. Lots of shoes, typical. Too many clothes, yup. But a large black case caught his eye. Sliding it down off the shelf, h recognized it (intimately) as a gun case. Cracking it open, he smiled in appreciation. Springfield XD .45. An excellent gun for self-defense, or, for the gun enthusiast, target shooting.

_A very good gun…for a man. A heavy and cumbersome gun for a woman. A big kick. Unruly to conceal. _

Undid the pouch to find hollow point bullets. Hollow points. Expensive, because they were the super-charged version of bullets. Exploding, destroying targets instead of just driving through them. Not the type of bullets you see civilized people use.

_This girl does not mess around with self-defense._

The bedroom connected to another tiny room, which looked like she used it as an office or computer room. A large…well, he thought it was a very ugly vase or urn, rested on a table in the corner. But as he lifted the ugly thing, he was taken aback.

Female Grand Champion

2006 World Tournament

Ah. A trophy. Framed pictures and clippings surrounded the big cup. Janna with the cup, with a face that looked like it had blood hastily wiped off, but a broad smile. Janna, in full uniform, accepting her trophy.

_Curioser and curioser._

A fighter then. That made sense.

A larger picture, bigger than the rest, showed Janna and a man, both smiling broadly, leaning into each other, holding identical cups. The man had nearly a foot on Janna, was handsome, with piercing eyes and a strong build. They looked happy.

The Joker was disappointed.

He dropped the frame to the floor, letting the glass shatter, and folded the picture up, slipping it inside his coat.

So far, very interesting. There was a chest under the desk, which he dragged out and opened. Unlike the rest of the apartment, which was spotless, the chest was covered in a layer of dust. Cracking it open, his grin grew larger.

Knives. In every variety. A few swords.

And with a happy, impressed noise he pulled out two cruel looking blades. Sickle shaped on a wooden base. Running his finger over the blade lightly, he smiled more. They were razor sharp, sharpened perfectly, as proved by the droplets of blood on his fingers.

Whistling, he went back to her closet, pulled out a duffle bag, and tossed in some of her clothes and the blades. The gun he decided to keep on himself.

Interesting girl. Now to find what he could do with it all.

When he got back, the sun was rising, but she was still asleep. She made it easy. He was too excited to sleep, like a small child waiting to open his presents.

"BOYS! HERE, NOW!" he boomed out. A brief pause, then sprinting, and the sounds of pushing, shoving, and tackling. They knew not to keep him waiting. He occasionally shot the last person to him in the knees, just to keep them on their toes.

Without turning, he knew they were there.

"Take her into the side room. Lock her in. Bring her food, but that's it, and only bring it when she's asleep. No talking. No interaction. Got it?"

They all nodded anxiously, and one walked forward to pick her up, and carried her out.

They shuffled out, trying not to run, not wanting to let him now they were afraid. It made him laugh, and he did now, loudly and openly.

How would she cope? Well, he'd find out.


	7. Chapter 7

Janna woke up alone, in a tiny room. A tray of food was by the door. Standing, wobbling a bit, with a bad headache and a terrible ache of fear, she tried the perimeter of the room. The door, of course, was locked. No windows. Trying to shove down panic, she tried to think.

She had to remember how the hell she had gotten in here in the first place. The headache made it difficult to sort memories. It hurt more when she tried to force it.

The memories flooded over her, but they were meddled and disconnected, skipping through parts, mixing up times. Wayne's party, the three thugs, a cold shower, a car ride with a knife, clinging like crazy to an insane murderer…apparently, a pretty busy night.

_God help me. I'll need it._

_--_

Johnny was a small-time thief in need of money. The Joker's group had sounded great. A smart boss who always outwitted cops…it was a dream come true. It wasn't until he was in too deep he learned all the rest, the craziness, his cruelty, his complete lack of regard for the lives of his men.

He had drawn the short straw. No one liked to approach the Joker when he hadn't gotten much sleep. The Joker always got giddy ideas, which kept him up all night, then by day, he'd be cranky. The joker in a cranky mood was a deadly thing.

He inched closer to the Joker, who sat with his back to him, reading the paper. Before he could work up the nerve to speak, the Joker saved him.

"Good morning! Lovely day isn't it?" He was smiling broadly. Johnny was more scared than ever.

Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "And how is our lovely captive? Screaming for mercy? Clawing at the door? Tying together sheets to try and hang herself?"

"No…no sir." Johnny didn't mean to call him that. Johnny felt ridiculous. Calling the Joker "sir", like some kid talking to his dad, "She's just…quiet. I went in, and she didn't even seem to know I was there."

The smile went off the Joker's face.

_Hmmm. Maybe more resilient than I thought. _

"Well, we'll see how she does with a few more days. Being shut off always gets to them".

Johnny just nodded, and ran like hell.

What the Joker hadn't anticipated was how used to solitude Janna was. It was her life now. Worked a crummy job, talking to disembodied voices, coming home to her shabby, lonely apartment. It was why her sister, who she hadn't seen in person in months, had given her the invitation to the party: to try and get her to interact. Hopefully with a man. A rich man ideally, but at this point, beggars couldn't be choosers.

She was good at passing time. She had an exceptional memory, when the hangover went away. Capable of replaying scenes, book excerpts, memories. The memories were the problem.

When the memories crushed her like a weight, she shook them off by going through some basic routines, stretching, pushups, reflexive tricks. Besides distracting her mind, she figured she would need all her strength and skill to deal with the Joker, who had proven to be beyond her.

She was furious. Oddly, not at the Joker. At herself. She had assumed that just because he had chased off those thugs, that she could trust him. She tried to blame the liquor, the head trauma, anything, but really, she should have known better than to trust the man who had kidnapped her.

Pumping out military style pushups, trying desperately to keep her mind from whirling, she snarled at herself.

_Stupid stupid girl. So desperate for…anyone that even a crazy criminal will do. Pathetic. You deserve what you get._

Her eyes stung with tears. Wanting to scream, she bit her lip hard enough to bleed, not ever wanting to give that satisfaction to him.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been six days. Six days she had almost zero interaction. Johnny brought her food, but would not look at or speak to her. She had never uttered a sound.

The Joker was impatient. He paced in front of her door, looking like a giddy child. Finally, he decided she'd had enough.

Carrying her duffel bag, he entered the room. It was time to see what was in that little head of hers.

Janna tried not to look up excitedly. Even Johnny's silent face was a treat now. But when she looked up, and saw the Joker's painted visage instead, cold dread sank in a round her.

"Hello Janna. Miss me?

She tried to answer. But after 6 days of no words, she found her voice hard to find. It felt thick and difficult. He didn't notice.

"We're going to play a little game. Be a good little girl and play along, and things will be better. Be a bad girl, and trust me, it will get much worse. Understand?"

She nodded. She tried not to think about what this game might entail.

Good. He pulled out a picture, of her with the trophy.

"You were a champion? A karate girl?"

She nodded. Just questions? She could handle that. And she was desperate for a voice, any voice, someone to talk to, anything.

"How long did you train?"

It took her a minute to get her voice to work.

"Since I was seven. So almost twenty years."

He considered that. A lifetime of formal training. So that's how she was so responsive, even when he choked her, instead of freezing like most. Hmm. He decided to change gears.

"Your family proud?"

_Ah, here we go,_ Janna thought.

"Not particularly." Before he could prod her further, she anticipated the question. "My dad died when I was young. Cancer. My mother was cheating on my father, while he was at chemo. I haven't spoken to her since I was 16. My sister thought winning fighting competitions ruined my chances of a husband. She never bothered to care"

The Joker cocked his head to the side, considering the voluntary response. No emotion. No regret, no pain. Just matter of fact. She really didn't care about her family's past and lack of involvement. So that route wouldn't work.

"Hmm. And what are these? I must say, I kind of like them." He held out the sickle blades.

Her eyes sparkled a little. He thought he might have imagined it.

"Kamas."

"Pardon?"

"Kamas. They're an old traditional weapon. For basics, good like a knife, but with a longer cut range. If you're good, they're straps that attach, and can be used in pretty complicated swings, spins, and attacks" she said, and her voice was tinted with some enthusiasm.

It clicked in his brain. Razor sharp. Scars. _Thhhere we go._

"That's how you got your scars then?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Not many do kamas at all anymore, a few are good, but very few women even bother. I was good. But to do the complicated spins, like the flashy ones around the neck…you can't get lazy. I kept them sharp to always keep me on my toes" Tracing the thick scar on her neck, she laughed a little, "Guess I got lazy."

She seemed happy on this subject. Time to change gears again.

He unrolled the other picture.

"So. Who is this?" He showed it to her. He wasn't disappointed. Her face went ghastly white, and a look of pure shock crossed her face.

"Janna. Remember the game. Who is this" He snarled the question now.

"Richie Borelli". She squeezed her eyes shut.

"And? He was? Your husband? Boyfriend? Lover?"

"NO." she spat it, disgusted and disturbed. "A friend. A good friend. I knew him my whole life."

"Knew? Meaning not anymore?" The Joker asked. _Getting interesting now._

"He's dead".

"Tell me about him. And don't lie. I'll know".

Janna was shaking. "We were at the same karate school together, since we were young. We trained together every day. We competed together. That picture, we won the World Championships together that year."

"How did he die?"

She shuddered convulsively.

"I'm done now. What else did you have in mind for the game?"

The Joker's smile was cruel.

"It's not that easy Janna. You don't get to walk away. You answer my questions, or you rot here. I'll ask again. How did he die?"

"I don't know." The Joker started to snarl again so Janna interrupted, "I don't know how. He…well, he was a saint. Taught school for special-ed kids as his full-time job, coached an inner-city track team as his side project. He always made fun of the fat coaches who would sit and bark at the students to run faster, so he used to enter charity runs alongside them, to run next to them. Well, he convinced me to go with him, for the big Gotham marathon, 10 miles, last year…"

"And?"

"…I-I'm an okay runner. I kept up with him for 8 miles. But I couldn't keep going with him. He was too good. I told him to go ahead without me. I never saw him alive again. He crossed the finish line, and collapsed, dead on the spot."

"Drugs? Steroids?" the Joker asked mockingly.

And was promptly surprised when she lunged for him, grasping her hands over his throat. He had not been prepared, and she was so furious, so hysterical, he probably couldn't have shaken her off anyway. They struggled on the ground, Janna digging her nails into his throat while he gagged. Finally, by yanking her long hair and her own weakness (from little food and poor sleep) she was forced to let go, and he reversed it, pinning her down, laughing hysterically.

"Okay, so no drugs. So what did it?"

She gasped for air, trying desperately to get it into her lungs. He let up a bit, to let her answer.

"They don't know. They did…several autopsies. Nothing. No heart problems, no aneurysm. He just…died".

His face was a mockery of sympathy.

"Such a sad, sad loss. But surely, at the funeral, surrounded by his friends and family who loved this saint, that had to be a comfort?"

Tears were in her eyes now. She was shaking like she was having a seizure, wouldn't answer. He grabbed her face roughly in his hands, shook her violently, and growled, "It was, wasn't it?!"

She gasped and shuddered, and finally her voice came back.

"He had been everything to me. My best friend. My confidant. But his family…they had no idea who I was. They had never heard of me. He was my whole world, and I had been just a blip in his life. I haven't trained since, and I never stepped inside the school again"

_There. There it was. Everything clicked perfectly into place in the Joker's brain. _

He giggled coldly, looking down at her on the floor.

"So you loved and trusted someone, and you meant…well, not much to him. Your father died, your mother treated you all like shit. Your sister is a non-issue. Your work's a joke (you took that after you quit training right? Something mindless to pay the bills?).

Hell, even Batman decided to leave you for dead. He went after that Rachel girl, and forgot about little you on the tile. Apparently, you're just a blip on the whole freakin world"

He would have saved time by just punching her repeatedly. She looked so broken, but no tears came now, just steady, quiet agreement.

"If you're going to kill me. Just get it done." And she leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, and prayed for death.

He watched her, a smug smile playing on his face now.

"Oh no no no Janna. Tell me, do you ever play chess?" He sounded excited, like playing chess was the moment he was waiting for his whole life.

"What?" She sat up, confused, disoriented, still upset.

"Do you ever play chess? I'm very good at chess…well, when I can keep my mind on the game. I get so distracted sometimes. Anyway, most players, when they play, they protect their big pieces, the bishops, the rooks, the castles, and use the pawns to do it. They sacrifice the pawns for the good of the stronger pieces.

Good players, like me," he gestured wildly to himself, "know that's not how you win. Pawns can't be sacrificed. You need them. And with a little care, you can help them across the board. Get them across it, and the pawn becomes the most powerful piece in the game."

Janna's eyes were glassy, but he could see she was listening. He licked his lips hungrily.

"You've been a pawn, missy. Richie thought you were unnecessary. He had other worries. Your mom, she had bigger, richer fish to catch. Your sister, you just drag her down. The cops, Batman…they all let you go to save the more important piece. But you…oh _you_ are much more than a pawn. With a little help across the board," his fingers walked through the air, "And you'd become the queen. I could help you across that board. And then, then my dear, it's a Whole. New. Game."

He looked at her sideways, trying to read her, his tongue flicking out reflexively. She was very still. She looked up, slowly, and looked him straight in the eye.

And for the first time in a long time, she smiled.

(Some notes:

The "don't lie, or I'll know" is inspired by Hannibal Lector, who I see many similarities with the Joker. In my head at least.

2.) The story of the great champion who ran with his students and died after the finish line is very true. One of my best friends, in fact. Only, he was a bit better than Richie, and never treated anyone like a blip 

It's going to be tough for me to update this weekend, but I'll plan on adding more Sunday night. So this big update will have to do for now.

A special thank you to the wonderful reviewers! I really appreciate your input and encouragement!)


	9. Chapter 9

**(So, I went and saw Dark Knight for the third time tonight...and found myself more mesmerized by the Joker than ever. So these chapters may be influenced by my own fascination haha)**

It was funny. She hadn't pictured it being like this. For the six days she had spent in that little room, she had thought of nothing but her possible fate. Death, torture, endless pain—all seemed like strong possibilities.

It was so…_easy._

She hadn't had to say a word. With a simple smile, her fate was sealed. And it wasn't painful or torturous at all.

With her one simple smile, the Joker's face had lit up. He clapped joyously like a pleased and spoiled child, and he had immediately offered her his hand to help her up. He had swept her out of the room, and taken her to the kitchen for food. Shooing the boys out of the room, he had presented her with huge plates with every variety of food and snack. She gobbled hungrily, eyeing him suspiciously the whole time. But there was no malice on his face. Only glee. It was vaguely unsettling. He seemed not to notice. When he did speak, his voice had been kind.

"After you're done eating, you should get cleaned up, get changed. We'll have to think of everything you'll need. And we need to check your apartment, see if you want anything out of there." He spoke quickly, as if trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts, "Can you think of anything?"

_My cup _Janna thought, thinking of her hard-earned trophy. Almost immediately though, she chased that thought away. _That life is over. I don't want any reminders._

"Nothing, really. I don't want any part of that" She replied.

He nodded, pleased with her answer. He personally planned on retrieving her chest of weapons, but he was happy that she didn't want any sentimental reminders.

"Good. Anything you do need—clothes, whatever—we can always get you."

And he had practically skipped out of the room, leaving her chewing her food thoughtfully.

No, not painful or torturous at all. And that was disturbing in itself. But what scared Janna was something else entirely. After she took the Joker's hand, she had expected to feel some sort of dread or trepidation. But that feeling never came. Instead, a sudden peace had come over her, like she had finally figured herself out. Very disturbing indeed.

It was funny. He had expected her to have second thoughts, regrets, something. She seemed settled. Content. Relieved.

And she continued to amaze him. From that first day she had made her choice, she never looked back. And she took to her new role with a determined drive that was a tad bit frightening…well, for most it would be frightening; for the Joker, it was downright hot.

He enjoyed watching her. Watching her progress, yes, but mostly, watching her. She seemed to thrive in this role. She was like a very cruel kitten, who never bothered to sheath her claws. She played and gamboled, and he saw so much potential.

He had expected to have to train her a bit: shooting, fighting, etc. But she turned out to be an already excellent shot, with excellent guns skills. He had made fun of her gun, asking how she intended to shoot it if she wasn't strong enough to pull the trigger, and she had coolly shot the targets perfectly without responding.

Fighting was a whole new experience. He liked to pick on her, telling her he should have competed, because obviously he would have been a World Champion because he had so soundly beaten her.

She rolled her eyes, "I kept myself in shape, but I'm out of practice fighting. Haven't in over a year. Give me some time, and I'll kick your ass".

He laughed. He jokingly offered her the services of the thugs, allowing her to use them as sparring partners. He didn't know it, but she took him up on that. She started off fighting one, but quickly added two or three to keep it tough. She was getting better.

She was almost ready.


	10. Chapter 10

**(Thank you so much everyone for your very kind reviews. I can't express how much I appreciate it.!)**

The team hated her, Janna knew. They had assumed she was to be the Joker's pet, or maybe the team's plaything. Something like a slave, or an unpaid prostitute. They were sorely disappointed.

Instead, she was far above them in her place. The Joker made it quite clear that after him, they listened to and obeyed Janna. They were subject to her every whim and want, and often, her whims were painful.

They had assumed this fight-training thing would be funny, a chance to smack her around and teach Janna her place. After the first day, they didn't smack her around at all. She absolutely kicked their asses.

But tonight's training had been tough. She had fought three today, and she had done well, but had taken a fair amount of hits. Her face, which had been so badly bruised her first night here, had almost completely healed, with only slight swelling remaining, but she had fresh bruises now.

She kicked off her shoes and flopped on the floor in the small room, once her prison and now her haven, stretching out and laying flat. She closed her eyes and was just letting herself relax when there was a loud knock.

"Janna, open the door", the Joker's voice was oddly pained.

She flipped to her feet and opened the door. The Joker was leaning against the frame, and with a start, she realized he didn't have his usual make up on. She had never seen his actual face before, and she was taken aback. He looked furious, and he had a bottle and two glasses in his hands.

"It's been a bad day. Come join me for a drink". It wasn't a question, it was a command.

She wordlessly followed him to his room. It occurred to her she hadn't been in his room since that first night, when he had saved her, and she had acted like an idiot.

She could almost feel his rage. It seemed to emanate from him in waves. He poured the liquor (vodka, again, Janna realized with a twist in her stomach) in each glass, filling them to the brim, and handed one to Janna.

"To you, my dear. Hopefully you're better than this worthless lot," and he gulped the whole glass down in one swallow. "What's the matter? Vodka's not your flavor any longer?" And he nodded toward her still full drink.

_Ah. He wants a drink off before he talks_, Janna thought. _I can play that game_. And she imitated him, gulping her entire drink down, ignoring the burning in her throat and the disgusting taste lingering in her mouth. Janna could drink. She had a good tolerance, the side benefit of having mostly male friends. As far as she knew, the Joker almost never drank. This could end up being an alcoholic battle of wills.

He smiled sinisterly and refilled her drink. His face was oddly more frightening without the makeup. All of his emotions and anger was clearly written on his face, rather than hidden behind the painted smile.

"They managed to screw it up Janna. My perfect plan, simple and straightforward. Kill the mayor during the honor shots, easy as can be. A close range shot. They managed to miss. That means I lied in that obituary. And I don't lie, I always keep my word".

Janna considered her words carefully.

"There's still time to make good on your word. And besides, there's bigger fish" and she gulped her second drink down. It didn't burn this time, and slid down her throat much easier. She nodded towards his drink, "Something wrong with vodka clown?"

He cocked his head and looked at her, then smiled.

"You're something, you know that? Didn't your mother ever tell you it isn't a good idea to pick a fight?" And he downed his own.

With a smirk, Janna refilled his glass this time, "Didn't your mother ever tell you it isn't nice to make fun of a lady?"

"Yes, but my dear, you're no lady".

She hit him lightly, and he grinned, then his face sobered.

"Stupid Jim Gordon got in front of the bullet. I had him. I HAD him, Janna. That damned cop got in the way. At least he's dead now". He sat on the floor against the bed, gulped his third glass, and rested his head in his hands.

Janna did some quick estimating…they had finished about ¾ of the bottle…he had done more than half of that himself. He had a few on her then, but he seemed completely steady, whereas she was starting to wobble, and she knew she was getting tipsy quickly.

She sat next to him, holding her own glass, "He's dead. That's the good part. He was the foundation of the problem, one of the only non-swayable cops. And wasn't Gordon supposed to be Batman's main buddy? Maybe now Batsy will be guilted into taking off his mask".

He nodded, and beamed at her. "That's true. And I think you'll be ready for the next part." He leaned very close to her now, his face alight with scheming glee, inches away from her own. It made her nervous. She had those damned butterflies again, and again she found herself wishing they would choke themselves and die.

She swallowed her vodka quickly, and felt herself swaying a bit. She set the glass down, and leaned on him a bit, trying to hide her tipsiness. If he realized she was quickly heading toward drunk, she'd never hear the end of it.

He started with surprise. Most women…hell, most people, shrank away from him. His own team, who swore their allegiance, cowered with distaste and revulsion if he came too close. It had become a game, actually, to see how close he could get before people cowered. That Rachel girl, she had seemed to crumble, she was so disturbed by him. That was satisfying. Janna's closeness was unsettling.

Janna had gone from "tipsy" to "drunk" in a remarkably short span of time. Not surprising, with about 9 or 10 shots in her stomach. Unfortunately for her, she was a typical drunk, who denied her state and thought she was just fine.

_Mmm. He smells good_ she thought fuzzily. She snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

A part of his brain measured the humor of the situation. Here he was, the Joker, who put terror and fear into the hearts of even the bravest. And here he was, nervous and confused about a pretty girl getting all snuggly. The other part, the part plied by liquor, was focused on other things.

_She's pretty, _and he giggled. He shifted a bit so he was kneeling in front of her. She really was striking…except…the side of her face that was still swollen and blue around the cheekbones. That weird, guilty, cold pang hit him again. He rested his fingers under her chin, and turned her head to get a better look at the damage.

It took all of Janna's willpower to bite back the whimper that threatened to escape her mouth. It had been well over a year since anyone had touched her…well, in any way that wasn't trying to harm her or cause her death. Hell, Richie had been the last to show any affection, and he had only ever hugged her. And here was the Joker, a criminal, crazy murderer, touching her face softly, with surprisingly gentle and warm hands.

The Joker saw her face when he touched her, and felt that strange sadness again. Damn it. He repulsed her. He felt a sudden urgent need to get her away, or he'd start getting angry. Her eyes were closed tight, determinedly not looking at him, and he felt that rage again. Grabbing her around the waist, he stood and yanked her to her feet. Forced up against him, drunken Janna couldn't restrain that whimper now, and she moaned softly aloud.

That anger went out of him as quickly as it had come. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Probably she had a broken rib or something from her fight that one night, and he had hurt 'em when he lifted her up. He felt like an asshole, which was very rare.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as kindly as he knew how.

Janna forced her eyes open. She felt woozy, and overwhelmed. He felt good against her. He was strong and lean, and held her steady easily. Common sense was the first thing to go out the door when she drank, so she decided to go with it now. She was slightly too short to kiss him, and felt too unsteady to manage going up on tiptoes, so she settled for leaning forward and kissing/nibbling his neck.

It shocked him. It took a great deal to shock _him_. Reflexively, he shoved her away.

"What the hell is your deal? Are you crazy" he spat at her.

Janna was greatly confused, disoriented. She only felt that horrible stab that is rejection, and felt suddenly very insecure and sad. She clung to him now, grabbing handfuls of his vest, gripping the fabric like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry", she rested her forehead on his chest, "I-I didn't think. Is…is it the scars?"

Fury overcame him. She was making fun of him, mocking his scars, flaunting her own perfect face. He was ready to smack her. He raised his hand, then froze.

Her hand had gone reflexively to her throat as she had spoke, and her fingers traced the long scar on her neck. Her face had no mockery, no irony, just sad understanding.

She was afraid _her_ scars had repulsed _him_. He shuddered convulsively_. _His hand covered hers, and pulled it away from her throat. He wanted to fix it. Wanted to kiss her. But it wasn't in him. He pushed her away, and turned away from her.

"Go to your room Janna. Sleep it off" His voice was cruel.

Janna jumped, as if burned. Then fled from the room.

(**A few notes:**

**1.) So Janna's kind of a nerd in these past 2 chapters. And the Joker is kind of...eghhhhh. I know, I know. **

**Well, for one, I really wanted to have a drunk chapter. Janna is loosely inspired upon me, and since I drunkenly pounced my boyfriend (going on 2 years now) I wanted to write it in to make fun of myself. It was a selfish thing haha.**

**2.) I don't think anyone can be badass 24 hours a day, everyday. I think anyone, even the strongest, most independant woman, craves affection and closeness, and occasionally, acts stupidly to get it. **

**Trust me, Janna WILL impress in more chapters to come!)**


	11. Chapter 11

_**(well, the language is going to get a bit more adult, trying to go with the whole drunken/panic thing. I know me personally, I talk very politely sober…give me a few drinks, and I morph into a sailor's vocabulary lol)**_

The Joker sat on his bed, wondering what the hell had just gone one. Well actually, he didn't wonder. He knew.

He was a complete and total idiot.

He was…well, he was a freak. He hated the word, but he knew it to be true. Women didn't ever…want him. Hell, he couldn't get a woman without paying her or forcing her, and since both were repugnant to him, he had learned to go without. And had for quite some time now. It wasn't ideal, but he got such joy from blowing things up, he made it work.

And now, here he was, with a stunningly beautiful girl throwing herself at him. And he had gotten all panicked and had acted like a little girl. A demented, crazy little girl, but a little girl nonetheless. He had tossed the beautiful thing away and insulted her. All he needed to complete the very accurate portrayal was some pigtails and flailing.

Why? He had no clue.

Maybe it was the vodka that made him stupid. He was an intelligent guy. Maybe the liquor had robbed him of, you know, common sense. The kind of common sense that said, "hey, dumbass, beautiful girl is kissing you, go with it".

_The vodka. Fuck. _

Maybe he had really screwed things up, beyond repair. She had been fairly tipsy, most likely. That's probably why she had acted like she did. And now she'd be mortified. Or, maybe she'd been very drunk, and wouldn't even remember what had happened tomorrow. He didn't know which was better…or which was worse.

He fully realized how pathetic he was at that very moment. One of the most feared criminal masterminds, cowering in his bedroom, afraid to face a pretty girl. He was sure Batman, the police, the mob would all get a great laugh out of this. Acting like a scared high school boy with a crush.

_Freakin' pansy. _

And with that, he had enough of himself. He had to fix it. Or…grovel. Maybe beg. Maybe bring her a human sacrifice _AND _beg.

He got up and walked to her room, and feeling ridiculous, took a deep breath and knocked on her door.

He didn't know what he had expected. Maybe some teary eyed female. Maybe blushing shame. Well, he got none of that.

Janna answered the knock on the door, and for the first time, he realized the truth in the expression, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". She radiated rage. Her eyes snapped fire. Before he could speak, she cracked him across the face. And before he could react to that, she cracked him again, then slammed the door in his face.

_Ow. Not how I saw that going._

Cracking out his now sore jaw, he decided to just give it full blown participation, and see this through. Abuse or no abuse.

"Janna, open the freakin door" he yelled, completely forgetting about the team and how they'd probably snicker.

No reply. Alright. Well, here goes.

He turned the handle and forced his way inside. She was outmatched, not strong enough to keep him out, so she compensated by punching him…again.

_Damn. She has gotten better, _he thought. Luckily for him, the liquor slowed her just a tick, and when she lunged again, he was able to capture her wrists. Snarling, he shoved her against the wall.

"Janna, just stop it!" he growled.

Janna, feeling pretty damned tipsy and humiliated, was in no mood to listen. With a slight feeling of déjà vu, she head butted him square in the nose, then soundly kneed him in the stomach.

He had gone from penitent and ashamed of himself to annoyed and frustrated. And he had had enough. He straightened, and backhanded her in the face, across the already bruised side. It was hard enough to send her staggering to the side, and her rage doubled. She turned and kicked him forcibly in the stomach again, and as he doubled over, grabbed his long hair, and yanked. Reflexively falling, he reached out for her own hair, and pulled her down with him. Grabbing her arms, he twisted himself so he was on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

The part of his brain affected by his liquor faintly registered the suggestive nature of his position. Janna, however, of course had other ideas. She boxed his ear with one hand, and grabbing his hair, yanked him off to the side, off of her. She staggered to her feet, and he realized she was going to start beating him again. Struggling to his feet, he managed to block the first kick. He was greatly annoyed now, and ready to really start fighting back, and then he saw her face.

He was shocked. Her face had lost its anger, and was replaced with just pure sadness. She looked on the brink of tears, and that awful, unknown pang hit him again. Her next hit was poorly aimed, with no force behind it. Catching her, he shoved her against the wall, softer this time, and held her still. She was crying now, and fell against him, the tears soaking into his shirt.

Dammit. That pang sucked, eating at his insides until he could think of nothing else. He had to silence it somehow. Grabbing her chin, he forced her face up, and for a moment her sad silver eyes met his, and he kissed her with all he had.

She shoved him away, and he looked at her, startled. She pushed him back, and kissed him, more forcibly than he had. He answered her with an energy that surprised even him, dragging her down to the floor with him. Gone was the that insecure little girl, replaced with the crazy confident woman normally only found when she fought.

And he quickly found he could think no more, as his entire world became only her, and sank into lovely black oblivion.

(Thank you all for the reviews! I can't even begin to thank you all properly! Coming up…awkward next day, more violence,a nd Janna takes her place on the team)


	12. Chapter 12

Janna rolled over, and was immediately reminded why she had vowed to never drink again after the first night there. She gasped as the stabbing pain overwhelmed her head.

_Vodka equals the devil, _she thought bitterly. _Bad, bad vodka._

She sat up slowly, and groaned at the pain that seemed to spread throughout her whole body…particularly between her thighs.

Wait…what?

And with a stab of shock, flashes of last night flooded her mind.

_The Joker, kissing her. Dragging her to the floor. His hands sliding under her shirt. His hot mouth on her neck. Kissing him. Tearing at his shirt. Urging pants down off his hips. Gasping and moaning in that mix of pain and pleasure. Ripping his back to pieces with her nails…._

There was no mirror nearby, but Janna knew her face, and probably everywhere else, was crimson.

She whimpered again, and pulled the covers up over her head to hide. From what, she wasn't sure, but the urge to hide was paramount in her mind.

It took her another minute to realize that her partner in last night's festivities, the cause of her turning into a human beet, was conspicuously missing. Her stomach twisted, but not from the liquor. Instead, it was that sad feeling a girl can only get when a guy she sleeps with disappears the next morning.

_Well, what did you expect dumbass? Roses on the pillow and breakfast in bed? Yes, then twe could read the morning paper and discuss current events, Maybe discuss getting him a new shade of lipstick. _

She covered her head with a pillow and yelled into it, furious with her own insanity and stereotypical female clinginess.

"Now, why muffle yourself now? You didn't bother last night" Janna knew the voice. And could have cried. Or died. Maybe both.

"Are you planning on coming out anytime soon?" He asked, and she knew he was laughing.

"Not really, no. I think I'll stay here," she answered, refusing to come out until her face was a less obvious shade of purple.

She felt the bed sink and knew he was very close now. Taking in gulps of increasingly stale air, she forced herself to come out of her makeshift tent. He was looking at her with laughing eyes, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

"There you are. Ready to rejoin the land of the living?"

"I hate you".

The grin spread over his face with maddening swiftness, "Not what you said last night, sweets."

Her face turned to purple as quickly as a mood ring, and she yelped and hid under the covers again.

"Are we going to be doing this all day?" He asked.

"Yes."

He sighed. "Fine, but you might want to come out, There's something on the news you'll find interesting. When you've gotten over your shy fit, get yourself dressed and come out."

And still laughing, he got up and left her alone in the room, and alone with her confused thoughts.

Groaning and feeling completely mortified, Janna dragged herself out of the bed, wincing as she reached for jeans and a tank top. She would just have to suck it up. She still had no idea what this meant, if anything, but she wasn't going to find out hiding in her room. Better face the devil, rather than hide waiting.

With a deep breath, she walked out to the main hallway, joining the Joker in the main room, following the sounds of the TV screen.

"A well known martial arts competitor and instructor has been reported missing. Authorities say Ms. Janna Dunbar, age 26, has not been seen by her family or coworkers in over two weeks. She was last seen at a fundraiser for Harvey Dent held at billionaire Bruce Wayne's penthouse. Her apartment was searched by police, and there is evidence of foul play. If you have any knowledge of Janna Dunbar's whereabouts, please call 555-3478. "

Lord. She was on the news.

The Joker looked at her carefully, trying to read her reaction. Her face was stark white, her eyes wide and shocked. But as always, she never failed to surprise him. Her face changed in an instant, turning into an expression of complete rage.

"They just figured out I'm missing NOW?! It's been two weeks. Two weeks, and no one even noticed?" She was practically snarling. She rounded on him, "And what do they mean, evidence of foul play?"

"When I went to get your stuff, I let a few things drop and break. Give them something to fret about." he answered calmly.

She looked ready to kill. He decided this was as good a time as any to break other news to her.

"Janna, go into my room. There's a bag on the bed for you. Don't get excited, it's for business, not pleasure," he winked, "With this out now, we might as well make you useful. You'll come with me to the meeting tonight with the mob guys."

Too angry to reply, she stalked into his room, slamming the door behind her.

Hour later, Janna was somewhat terrified. For some reason, facing the mob bosses didn't perturb her in the least. Going anywhere where people could see her in THIS outfit…that scared the heck out of her.

He had to have picked it out just to spite her. Or to humiliate her. Strippers wouldn't be caught in this outfit. Hell, drag queens wouldn't be caught dead in this.

The pant were skin tight, black. It took her several minutes, and lots of sucking in breath, to get _in _the pants. The top was, of course (what else WOULD a man pick?) a very tight corset, pushing her breasts up and out till they spilled over, and reducing her waist to nothingness. It also made it slightly more difficult to breath, but details, details. To complete this image of comfort, he had also provided her with platform stilletto heels.

And a collar and leash.

Now truly furious, and lightheaded from lack of oxygen, she stormed out.

Of course, now he wasn't alone, he had to be surrounded by the rest of the team, who gawked openly, and appreciatively, at her.

"What the hell is this?" she spat as she threw the collar at him.

"Janna, look-"

"No, what the hell is this?!"

Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her back to his bedroom. Furious, he threw her down on the bed.

"Don't you EVER question me in front of the boys again, do you understand?" he snarled.

She leapt to her feet and shoved him back.

"What, I'm just your slave now? You get me drunk and sleep with me, and you expect me to just grovel and be your pet?"

He looked like he'd been slapped. The anger went out of his voice, replaced only with weariness.

"What? No! Janna, look, the mob guys we'll never believe or trust me if I present you as a member of the team, let alone a partner in it. They will believe a guy likes me forces a girl as a pet. They'll underestimate you. They'll say and do things in front of you they would never do in front of me. I need you for this. And I need you to watch out for me. I can't trust those boys out there…who knows who may have gotten to them and paid them off?

They stared at each other awkwardly, and after a long moment, Janna reached out her hand for the collar. He wordlessly handed it to her, and she belted it around her neck. She strode to the door, and walked out, with him walking closely behind her.

_(Coming up! Things get even more tense/awkward, and the police start getting leads on Janna's whereabouts._

_And some notes. A few people, in reviews and private messages, have told me that the Joker would absolutely not act in any of the ways I've portrayed him._

_While I do appreciate suggestions for improving this story, that is one item in which I have to respectively disagree._

_I believe it is something about our society that makes us want to demonize killers and criminals. We like to pretend that they have no soul, that they are just mindless, cruel monsters._

_Unfortunately, that is rarely the case. It's not that simple._

_In school, I did a lot of research into serial killers and infamous arsonists. One of the common factors that floored me was how unaware the families of those criminals were. To the killers' wives, girlfriends, brothers, friends…they were the sweetest, most tender individuals. Many a person said they couldn't possibly believe the person to be capable of such violence, as he had always treated them with such respect and kindness._

_Make no mistake, I am not defending their actions or their character. They are vile individuals. But I think it is very naïve to write someone off as incapable of affection, because many excel in it. I believe any person, no matter how evil, is capable of some level of caring. Just as someone, no matter how good, can be capable of cruelty)._


	13. Chapter 13

The car ride to the meeting was awkward, and silent. When they arrived at the meeting place, an old warehouse, Janna was the first out of the car

_Time for the performance of my life, _she thought, just as the Joker snapped her collar tight, restricting her breathing.

"Not so fast, pet" he said simply, "You follow the master, not the other way around".

She could have killed him and not had any second thoughts. She settled for glowering at his back, and following him, forcing her face into a bland expression.

The Joker walked into the main room ahead of the boys and Janna. Merroni, the guy with the funny accent, and the rest of mid-level mobsters nodded to him, eyeing him warily. They were taken aback as Janna walked slowly in behind him, eyes cast down, looking as if she wanted to crawl away and die.

The Joker sat down swiftly, and grabbing Janna's hair, yanked her down, forcing her on her knees next to his seat. She yelped like a kicked dog, tried to pull away, and grimaced as he yanked her again.

"Well boys, you called me. What do you want?" The Joker asked the room gleefully. Seeing their eyes fixated on the girl next to him, he continued jovially, "Sorry to bring her along. She's a new pet, and she needs lessons in manners. I couldn't let her have a break from training, or I'd have to start over."

They all laughed appreciatively; a few nodded in understanding. The guy with the accent spoke first, "We've decided to take you up on your offer. The Batman for half of the pot…and Lau. Alive."

The Joker nodded, "Good man. I'm glad we've all come to an understand-"

"We haven't" said some stereotypical Sopranos-look-alike, "I think this whole thing is crazy. Just like you."

There was a long, tense moment. The mobsters were uneasy, terrified of what the Joker might do. Finally, he leaned forward, perfectly calm.

"I always deliver. And what I do is always top of the line. " Seeing the man's dubious expression, he continued, "You look tense. You need to loosen up. Here, as a sign of good faith, why don't you take my new pet for a try? I think everything will be much clearer to you then."

The man's face went from doubtful to greedy. Eyeing her hungrily, he laughed, "Yeah, maybe she can convince me". The Sopranos wanna-be stood, and grabbing her leash, yanked Janna to her feet, half dragging, half carrying her into the small storage room adjacent to the main hall.

I'll kill him, she raged, I'll kill him. I'll deal with this guy,. Then kill him.

The guy shut the door behind him, grabbed her close, and started lapping at her neck over the collar, licking her with his fat tongue like a very sloppy dog. Groping at her over her corset, Janna came very close to vomiting.

She knew she was supposed to take up time with this. At least fifteen minutes or so. She wasn't willing to wait it out. Reaching up and touching the sides of the man's face, he moaned, thinking she was starting to get into it. Quickly, with no fuss, she jerked his head around, cleanly breaking his neck. She let the large bulk of the man flop down on the ground.

She stared at it for a long minute. She expected to feel something. Horror, shock, revulsion, guilt…she felt nothing. Only a cold sense of accomplishment, and a strange surge of adrenaline at the knowledge she had just outwitted and outmatched an opponent twice her size, but half her intelligence. She wondered at her lack of reaction, disturbed more at her lack of remorse than the act itself, but she pushed it aside.

It was too quiet. They would all know something was up shortly. Kicking the body, she moaned loudly, gasped and whimpered, tossed herself about the room. She slid out the knife she had held in the corset, knowing the outfit was too tight to arouse suspicion, and decided to go to work for maximum impact.

The clanks and noises coming for the room were insanely loud, completely disrupting the meeting, as curious eyes kept dashing to the door.

"Well, glad my little J has decided to play nice" the Joker said evilly, "I hope all of you know exactly what you get when you deal with me now. I never disappoint"

Janna happened to choose that exact instant to exit the room. The Joker glanced back at her, and grinned. She was stunning. That shy, meek air was gone, replaced with a powerful presence. She walked with complete confidence, sliding her bloody knife down her cheek, creating a perfect red streak on one side.

"What the hell is this? Where the hell is Tony? Merroni shouted.

Janna smiled coyly. "Tony? Was that his name? Hmm. Tony should have learned some manners of his own. It's a little too late to start now though."

She hopped up on the table, sitting cross-legged facing them, twirling the knife casually.

"You see boys, this is what you get when you doubt me. I expect we'll have your complete cooperation?" The Joker opened his coat jacket, displaying his usual arrangement of explosives to reinforce his point, I will deliver Lau, the money, and Batman. I'm a man of my word." And he laughed hysterically, greatly pleased at how this had all played out. Flourishing his gun, he gestured Janna out of the room, and backed out carefully.

Once outside, the Joker shoved her against the wall, "God you were hot" he growled into her ear.

And was promptly slapped across the face.

"I'm not your pet. I'm not your tool. You can't toss me to the wolves, then expect me to melt for you

She was very close to snarling.

Laughing, he straightened, and holding her by the throat, shoved her against the wall again.

"My dear. You were never thrown in with the wolves. You were the wolf." Still laughing, he kissed her again, and this time, she decided it was better to not hit.

--

Merroni was disturbed. Usually calling one of his tarts for a night out made him feel better. But this time, it set him more on edge than ever. This blonde was as beautiful as any other one, but for some reason, her presence reminded him of the little she-devil, and how she had so calmly killed Tony.

It was vastly unsettling. Tony was a big man, an excellent bodyguard. And she had ripped through him like he was some feeble, brittle thing. And how disturbed did a girl have to be to put up with something like the Joker? What else could she, and they, be capable of?

For once, he was grateful to be at a club with some insane techno and strobe lights. It kept him from remembering the awful way she walked, the flash of red on her pale skin, the Joker's maddening grin…

A yell to his right brought him back from his reverie. Batman, working his way through his thugs.

This night just got better and better.

--

He was dangling off the side of a building. Nervous, he feigned confidence.

"From one professional to another, if you're going to threaten someone, pick a better spot. From this height, the fall wouldn't kill me" he said snidely.

"I'm counting on it" Batman rasped, dropping him..

Merroni felt the awful searing pain in his legs, in his back. Batman was already on him.

"Where is the Joker?!" He yelled.

"I-I don't know, I never knew anything-"

"Someone must know. He must have friends!"

"Friends? Have you met this guy?" Merroni shouted, incredulously. Batman raised his fist again to hit him, "Wait, wait! He had a girl with him!

Batman's fist fell, "A girl?"

"A pretty thing. As creepy as he is though."

"What's her name?"

"I-I don't know. He only called her J, I don't know anything else", seeing Batman's raised fist again, he shouted, "Tall, black hair, pale. That's all I know, I swear!"

Batman shoved Merroni back to the ground, and stood, walking off.

_What kind of girl would associate with someone like the Joker?_

_(I'm going away for the weekend, so I'll be unable to update until late Sunday/early Monday morning...hopefully this will be enough until then! Coming up...Janna decides to have it out with the Joker, Batman tries to get some info on "J", and the Joker's plot thickens..."_

_I really appreciate all the comments and reviews...keep 'em coming, or I may be heartbroken and refuse to update -evil laugh-"_


	14. Chapter 14

Janna allowed the kiss for only a moment, and shoved him away, walking swiftly to the waiting car.

Confused and slightly bewildered, the Joker followed her, and puzzled over the situation the entire car ride home. It was a silent drive, Janna staring blankly out the window. He tried once or twice to chat, but she never even glanced in his direction.

Once home, she quickly got out and was the first inside and up the stairs, shutting herself up in her small room.

Slightly worried now, the Joker mulled the situation over. Was it possible she was having second thoughts?

He knew there was an excellent chance she regretted …everything…that had happened between them. How could she not? Why would a gorgeous woman want a freak like him? He had meant to just pretend it hadn't happened, but she had been so damned _hot _during the meeting he couldn't stop himself from kissing her. He was an idiot.

Or could it be she was regretting what had happened at the meeting? Regretted killing that thug? He would have expected it of anyone else, but she had seemed to take to her new role so enthusiastically…so eagerly. It was a natural fit for her, something she excelled in.

It was all very odd.

--

Janna felt vastly out of sorts. Like she was going to crawl through her own skin. She felt dirty. She felt gross. Growling to herself, she grabbed a towel and walked into the bathroom. Dropping her clothes to the floor, she turned the water to scalding hot, and stepped in, letting the water stream over her face. She relished in the sharp, almost painful feeling of the hot water on her skin, turning it bright red, and the steam rising off her body.

She was furious. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel that slimy bastard lapping at her. She still had to fight down the bile every time she thought of it.

And when the Joker had kissed her, all she could think of was the thug's tongue on her neck, his clumsy hands on her breasts, and had almost thrown up in her mouth.

She was so confused. She was shaking now, and she laid down on the floor of the tub, curling up on her side in a fetal position and allowing the water to pulse around her, not caring how the water was flooding around her.

What was wrong with her? She had killed a man. Killed him quickly and easily, then had carved his face like something out of The Devil's Rejects.

She should be feeling ill. Repulsed with herself. She would settle for pure old-fashioned guilt. But nothing, nothing but a strange sense that Tony had really needed to be killed.

And she also knew her feelings for the Joker weren't exactly normal. She was so awkward with normal people, shy and odd, and no one ever got her sense of humor, so she normally just sat there quietly, saying as little as possible. And here was this crazed murderer (by most standards anyway) and she was completely at ease. She could relax. He laughed at her jokes. He _understood _her jokes. And he was vastly appealing, in his own bizarre way

It was all too much. It scared the hell out of her. What the hell was she?

--

She had been in the shower for a while now. Was she drowning herself? He was undeniably on edge now, nervous and agitated. Not a good time to chat.

"Hey boss, when will we get paid?" asked a young thug. A new guy. The others knew better. They learned his moods, and when was a bad time to talk to him. And they also knew to never, ever, disturb him in his room.

Snarling, he turned and shot quickly, cleanly, letting the young punk flop dead on the floor.

Hmm. Normally killing someone out of the blue did wonders for his mood. Now he was just annoyed there was a mess on the floor. He strode over, and yelled down the hall.

"Boys, come clean up this mess, and hustle, before the blood soaks the floor"

There was silence, then the sounds of a group of men sprinting, trying to avoid to get shot themselves.

Now that that was taken care of, he decided to go and see if Janna had succeeded in drowning herself.

He opened the bathroom door, and opened the shower curtain, a smug comment about her body on his lips, which died when he saw her curled up on the tub floor. The water had filled up around her, almost completely covering her face. He reached down and touched her shoulder, and she jumped, coming out from the water with a splash and a gasp for air.

Pushing back her soaked hair, she looked at him, looking slightly confused, but not at all bothered or perturbed.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Are you trying to drown yourself, or do you just want a hot tub and are settling for this?"

"Neither. Just trying to think."

He turned off the water, and held out her towel.

She ignored the towel and walked out, heading directly to his room.

Apparently, she was changing. Had changed. The Janna of a few weeks ago had been shy fully dressed. This Janna didn't care who saw her naked. She finally looked confident in her own skin.

With raised eyebrows, he followed her very naked form into the room. She had flopped herself on his bed, her wet hair strewn all over. Trying very hard to ignore her wet and undressed. state, he sat next to her, and pushed back her hair.

"You alright?"

"Yes. That's the problem".

She sat up in answer to his confused face.

"Shouldn't I feel something? I just killed a guy, peeled his face, and finger painted with his blood. So why don't I feel anything?"

That was all? The Joker breathed a sigh of relief and felt a slight sense of glee in Janna's development. She never disappointed.

"Because you are above petty concerns like the right or wrong of killing a cheap thug. Because some people should not be alive. Because it's fun to be so much stronger and smarter than people like him. Because sometimes, snuffing something out can be the best feeling in the world."

It was her turn to cock an eyebrow.

"The best feeling? Hmm. That doesn't say much for me, now does it?" She asked coyly.

The Joker, not for the first time, was glad for his makeup. He would be blushing like a teenager under the caked white makeup otherwise. He felt like an idiot.

She decided to have mercy on him.

"You know, if you want to give me a second chance, I think I could do better. Especially if you keep that makeup on. "

He felt that odd stab again. _I'm so repulsive she prefers the makeup? Of course, he knew no one would want someone that looked like him, but that someone would prefer his makeup? How freakish was he?_

She didn't seem to notice, and continued, "I want to see where it will end up on me. Especially the red," and a mischievous smile played on her own face.

Oh.

Well. That was different.

(**Author note:I promise, the next chapter will be as explicit as had been requested, maybe even more heeheehee …also, coming soon! the Joker really gets his evil plans in gear, Janna gets more violent, and Batman starts closing in…)**


	15. Chapter 15

**(Okay, so this chapter is VERY explicit. If you are uncomfortable with that, skip to the next chapter. You won't miss anything about the plot, this is pure dirty fun :)**

**This is my first attempt at writing like this, so cut me some slack)**

**--on with the fun!--**

Janna had to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. It made her feel powerful and incredibly sexy, being able to shock even someone like the Joker.

She kissed him, softly at first, then harder, hungrier, till he moaned into her mouth. She grabbed the soft material of his vest and pulled as she laid down, effectively pulling him on top of her naked form.

His kisses were now more insistent, more demanding. He grabbed her hands, which were now tangling in his hair, and shoved them down over her head, pinning her. She made a sound oddly similar to a growl, and bit his neck, hard, till he gasped and released her wrists in surprise. She grabbed his hair and tugged him to one side, making him feel like she was attempting to yank his head clean off. She twisted him till he was off of her, and she straddled him, holding his own wrists over his head. He was startled, but incredibly surprised, and stared up at her.

"Hold on to the headboard, and don't move. If you let go of those rungs, you'll get punished, understand?" her voice was commanding and strong, her face had a deceptively sweet smile.

He nodded, exhilarated with the possibilities she was presenting.

She fished in his pockets for a minute, making him think she was trying to tease him, until she found one of his knives, which she pulled out and opened with a flourish.

"Now, the game really has changed," she said, laughing to herself.

She opened his vest quickly, tugged his shirt loose of his pants, and growled in frustration at the many buttons.

"Too. Many. Damned. Buttons", she snarled, and gave up unbuttoning them, and simply ripped his shirt off

She leaned down, her bare breasts grazing his own naked chest, and she nibbled the sides of his neck. She worked her way down nipping and biting at his chest. Her caresses felt so good, he was really starting to get into it, and his hand drifted into her damp hair.

She sat up quickly, smacking him across the face and dragging the point of the knife down his side, allowing the sharp blade to faintly cut the skin.

"What did I tell you? You'll get punished if you move, and it'll get worse every time." She reminded in a sing-song tone.

"Promise?" And he giggled maniacally, but obediently returned his hands to the headboard rungs.

She worked her back down, and kissed and sucked on the skin just above his pant waistband. His head swarmed with pleasure, and a desperate need for her to get the hell _under_ his pants already. She smiled mischievously, and finally gave in and undid the belt, tugging it loose. Then deliberately, torturing slow, she undid his pants, and slid them and his boxers at once down his hips. She looked at him hungrily, once again struck by how normal he was.

The last time they had done this, she had assumed it was the liquor clouding her opinion. She had expected him to be…something else. with the makeup, his cocky personality, his costumey clothes…he was like some sort of cartoon, some sort of symbol.

Without the clothes, and squirming and moaning under her, he was vibrantly alive. Radiating warmth, his lean and toned body was beyond normal, it was downright sexy.

"Are you just going to stare, or are you going to get on with it," he rasped, impatient. Startled, Janna realized she had been staring. She recovered quickly, smacking him again.

"Don't interrupt me, this is my show," and she pricked him again with the knife, following the blade with her tongue, lapping at the small trickle of blood.

She licked and nibbled everywhere except where he wanted her to most, until he was moaning and shuddering desperately. She finally took pity on him and took him into her mouth, swirling around with her tongue and making him gasp.

Lord, if she kept going like that, this was going to end much sooner than he wanted. With a snarl, he sat up, pushing her off him. She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it deftly, and shoved her around, forcing the blade out of her hand. Pinning her under him again, he growled.

"My turn baby. I believe you wanted to see where this makeup would go?" and he smiled sinisterly down at her.

Without warning, he bit her neck sharply, almost breaking the skin. She gasped aloud at the extreme pain and pleasure, and pushed herself up against him. Like she had, he worked his way down, massaging her breasts, while kissing and nibbling at them, deliberately being sloppy to make sure the red smeared as much as possible.

She was writing under him, digging her nails into his shoulders, which only made him bite all the more enthusiastically. He worked his way down to her thighs, rubbing her legs and nipping the sensitive insides of her thighs. She was rhythmically tugging at his hair subconsciously, and when his mouth was finally over her, she moaned loudly, not caring how many of the thugs heard her. She could always just kill them if they sniggered.

That mouth of his was a gift from…well, whatever force was out there, causing her such intense pleasure it almost hurt.

He came back up to her, kissing her neck, filling her mouth. She met his dark eyes, and smiled as she saw that most of his makeup had smeared off now. With no warning, he slammed himself into her, causing her to gasp and clutch at him desperately.

He felt strongly dominant and powerful, and relished in the delicious feeling of her surrounding him. He had to admit, it was a fantastic turn-on to be so controlling over this vibrant creature-

The thought had barely crossed his mind, w hen Janna recovered from her initial surprise, and wrapped her strong legs around him, hooking them behind him, and forcing him deeper into her, while simultaneously controlling the pace. It amazed him, that he could be in such a traditionally male-dominant position, and yet she still managed to take over, like she dominated everything.

Something so beautiful, so powerful, so aggressive and vibrant and completely unafraid of him…and that thought drove him over the edge, pounding into her till she screamed. Finally, both spent, he collapsed over her, feeling more completely satisfied than he could ever remember.


	16. Chapter 16

**(sorry for the long delay everyone! This is a big chapter. Now, some of this may seem random, but it will come up later. Also, the latter half is fromt he movie, but is important for development)**

Janna stretched luxuriously, admiring the splashes of red, white, and black over her own skin. This time, she woke up much more comfortably, waking up snug and warm, with arms tight around her. Leaning back, she looked at him with a smile. He was sound asleep, curled up on his side, curled into a little ball like a child. It was hard to imagine that this person, with sex-smeared makeup, was the same person that scared the living hell out of the residents of Gotham.

She grinned to herself, and pushing a strand out of his green hair out of his face, she leaned forward. Kissed his scar to the left of his mouth, kissed him softly on the lips, then kissed the scars on the right. He woke with a start, jumping a bit at her touch.

As his eyes opened sleepily, she grinned evilly.

"Morning baby, we have a big day today! Cosmo says to get you off to the best start, I should do this…well really, it says I should every morning. I don't want to disobey the Bible." She worked her way back down to his most sensitive spots, and he shuddered.

"Anything you say lovely," he answered drowsily.

--

Bruce Wayne had been up all night, trying to find out something, anything, about the still-missing Janna Dunbar. By all accounts and evidence, she was the now infamous "J", who terrorized mobsters and slit off their guard's faces, to the glee and enjoyment of the Joker.

But nothing added up to that. Bruce had been up on his computer, performing random searches on Janna. There was her MySpace page, brightly colored, with happy music and tons of pictures. It apparently hadn't been updated in over a year, but there were photos with friends, goofy pictures of them smiling and laughing together. Pages of comments and inside jokes. Everything a normal, happy girl would have.

On a whim, he went through YouTube, and found dozens of videos. Most were competition snippets, Janna fighting, Janna using kamas. Some were "backstage" at tournaments.

"_Hey there, this is Richie Borelli! We're behind the scenes at the 2006 TKD World Championship! So far, our school has dominated this tournament. I, myself, am your new male champ!_

_The handsome man holding the camera gave a mock bow and grinned widely. _

"_But our school might get ANOTHER champ. The lovely Janna Dunbar has gotten a first in weapons, and a second in forms. Unfortunately, her rival, Tulah Rodriguez, got a second in weapons and a first in forms, so Janna has to win fighting to get the cup. A whole lot of pressure! I think she can get it if she keeps her nerves together._

_The camera moved a bit, and there was Janna, sitting in a ball in a corner, headphones on, her head resting on her knees. _

"_Janna how are you feeling?" said Richie, in a poor imitation of a news anchor's voice._

_Janna sat up with a jolt, laughed nervously when she saw the camera, gave a mock-frightened face and a thumbs up. _

_Richie laughed again, turning the camera back on himself, "She's terrified." _

_A voice off camera shouted, "Calling division 12F, adult female black belts, fighting! Report to ring A!"_

_Richie shrieked like a little girl, "This is it!"_

_And he refocused on Janna. Her face had completely changed. Gone was the mixture of amusement and nervousness. It had been replaced with a look of fury, concentration, and complete confidence. There was no sign of the shy girl only one minute before. _

Bruce was bewildered. That laughing, happy girl disappeared, replaced with a complete animal. She was absolutely ferocious in the clips of the fights; she even received a warning for "excessive brutality". The tape showed her vicious wins, Janna being named the fighting winner after she devastated her final rival.

There was a second clip, once again from the hands of her friend Richie, which was even more baffling.

"_Quite a day, quite a day! Two champs from Black Belt Academy! Janna won her division, so we're both World Champs!_

_That announcer was shouting again, "Calling division 19B, youth black belts, 10-12, ring R!"_

_Richie laughed as Janna suddenly sprinted across the screen, and the camera became something out of the Blair Witch Project, as Richie ran after her. _

_The screen resettled on a small boy, much smaller than the other boys lined up. He had a solemn face, bright blond hair and eyes far too large for his own face. The other boys were laughing or talking nervously together. The small boy stood away from the others, listening intently. Janna was in front of him, crouched down to eye-level, apparently giving him final tips. _

"_Make sure you keep your hands up! Lead with the front, follow with the back, but keep them up" she instructed. The boy nodded, a look of grim determination on his young face, "Alright, let me see your mean face," she said, scrunching her own face up into a scowl._

_The boy turned on a face of juvenile rage, and it was obvious Janna was fighting back laughter._

"_Good boy, get in there and do your best!"_

_Janna stepped back with a small group, apparently the boy's family and a few other school members._

_The little boy fought impressively, with an uncanny sense of precision and speed, so unusual in one so young. And so, despite being half the size of his competitors, he absolutely dominated the competition._

_Janna was the worst sort of spectator, cheering obnoxiously loud, earning looks of annoyance and anger from other spectators. It only made her laugh and cheer even louder. And as the little blonde boy was named the winner, she screamed and leapt upon everyone within reaching distance, causing Richie to almost drop the camera. She ran forward and grabbed the little boy, swinging him around till the boy shrieked and laughed._

This girl, who apparently had close friends, students she loved, and incredible success…this was the girl that threw everything away to take up with the Joker?

It was all too insane.

--

Janna sat the large man down gently on the edge of the long, sturdy table, pushing his tangled hair off his forehead gently, almost lovingly.

"There now big guy, it'll be okay," she said soothingly.

"The voices, the voices never stop!" the man whined, grabbing handfuls of his hair and tugging.

"Shhhhh. Shush now," she crouched down in front of him, "I can make the voices go away. I'll replace them. I'll replace them with bright glowing lights."

"Glowing lights? Like Christmas?" He asked desperately.

She nodded encouragingly, "Yes, just like Christmas. I just need you to lie still for a moment, and it'll all be better."

The big man sighed with relief, and laid down obediently on the table.

--

Janna and the Joker stood together in the kitchen, going over the final plans, examining the maps once more. They worked well together, thinking at the same pace, finishing each other's thoughts. They were a good team.

"I still say I should be in this one," Janna said, clearly annoyed.

"No, J. It's going to get ugly tonight. I'd rather you stay here," he answered, gearing up for another of her tirades.

Johnny stumbled in, trying to get an idea of what was going on tonight.

"Boss? I was just thinking-" he started.

Without turning her head, Janna flung her blade cleanly into his head. The sharp tip of the knife slid through his forehead like butter. He tottered on the spot, and fell down dead.

The Joker usually found any signs of Janna's aggression or violence incredibly amusing. But tonight, when they so needed the boys for the plan to work, losing one was going to ruin things.

"J! We're going to be one short now."

"Guess you'll just have to use me then," she said slyly, a triumphant smile on her face.

He had to hand it to her. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted.

--

The truck moved alongside the SWAT wagon carrying Harvey Dent. The Joker growled in frustration. His bullets weren't penetrating the wagon's thick sides. The thought had just occurred to him when Janna set the giant bazooka on his shoulder. Chuckling to himself, he shot, and absolutely snarled when the Bat's tank-thing came out of nowhere to block the blast.

Janna was muttering obscenities to herself, and was already climbing to the front. He followed, throwing the driver out of the truck.

"Excuse me, I want to drive," he sang as he took the wheel.

Above-ground now, Janna spied the helicopter coming for them. She grabbed the walkie-talkie and shouted, "Rack it up now, rack it up rack it up!"

The two thugs shot the ropes across the path, and Janna laughed hysterically along with the Joker as the helicopter got snagged, and plummeted to ground in a fit of flames and fire.

The SWAT wagon spun to a halt, and the Joker giggled gleefully as their truck moved forward. Then, out of nowhere, appeared the damned Bat on his bike.

"Oh you want to play?" the Joker snarled.

Janna laughed, "Is he going to play chicken with a tractor-trailer?"

At the last second, Batman shot and veered to avoid the truck,.

"He missed!" the Joker shouted, thrilled.

And their happy triumph was cut short as the truck tilted, and slowly flipped over itself.

The Joker lay still for a moment, feeling amazed that he only felt the air knocked out of him. With a faint thrill of panic, he looked over to see if Janna was alright. She was coughing, but dragging herself up. Grabbing his gun, he stumbled out of the truck, nearly falling.

Straightening, he saw the Bat driving quickly towards him. Determined to test him, the Joker shot the cars out of his way, not wanting Batsy to have any excuse to avoid him.

"C'mon, I want you to do it, I want you to do it!" he muttered.

Janna, feeling a slight stiffness that would most certainly be full blown soreness tomorrow, pulled herself up, and gasped. The Joker was standing in the middle of the road, daring Batman to hit him. She readied herself to leap out and grab him out of the way, when finally, Batman couldn't do it, and slid to the side, going down. She ran over, laughing joyously. The Joker hopped a bit, and hugged her to him.

They laughed hysterically together as one of the boys reached for Batman's mask and was shocked. The Joker giggled like a pleased child, and pulling his knife, reached towards the Batman's face.

Janna jumped with a start as she felt cold metal pressing against the back of her head, and was shoved roughly to the ground. Glancing up, she saw the Joker in a similar position, and looking up, felt cold shock as Gordon stared down at them, with one of his officers at his side.

"We got you, you son of a bitch" Gordon snarled at the Joker, before glancing with some surprise and disgust at Janna.

Gordon. That was unexpected.


	17. Chapter 17

**(Well, I couldn't sleep...so, new chapter!)**

They had, wisely Janna thought, separated the Joker from her, keeping them in separate cars, and as they processed them, keeping them completely out of eyesight of one another. They had kept her well away from the holding cells, in case they might share some whispered plot.

She swung her feet merrily as she waited in the interrogation room. She giggled to herself. From the way the cops were all rushing about, and at this hour, she knew they had realized that Dent was missing.

She smiled broadly as the door swung open, revealing Commissioner Gordon standing in the entryway. He strode angrily towards her, and sat noisily.

"Evening, Commissioner," she opened, her voice disgustingly sweet.

"Harvey Dent never made it home, Janna."

"Nope."

"What did you do?" he asked, weary and desperate, hoping that in this one, there was a shred of humanity left.

"Me? I've been right here, nothing I could have done." Her smile widened.

"Janna, you're a pretty girl-"

"Looking to slum it for your next affair, Commissioner?" she questioned pertly.

Gordon looked at her with complete disgust, "You're a pretty girl, but not half as pretty as my wife."

She cocked her head to the side, studying him carefully

"That's sweet, Commissioner," she said finally.

Gordons sighed, and tried again, "You're a pretty girl. You have family. A job. How the hell did you end up with that freak show?"

Janna looked as if she was very carefully considering the question, before giggling and answering, "I guess we all are a little strange sometimes."

He nodded at her, "Did he do that to you?"

She smiled as she lovingly traced the long scar on her neck.

"This? Oh no. He would have left a much better scar. No, this was my own handiwork. Kamas." Seeing the question on his lips, she continued, "If you're going to question someone, it helps to know their weapons of choice, Commissioner."

"What did he do to you?" Gordon asked.

"Do to me? Oh love, he just set me free."

--

The Joker was heavily amused. Gordon had given up on him, and had presumably gone to question J. Batman was now sitting across of him, disgust and hate flowing from him.

"What did you do to the girl?" he rasped.

The Joker laughed openly, "Me? I didn't do a thing. You. Them," he nodded toward sthe cops he knew were standing on the other side of the glass, "_you_ did it. You all forgot about her. You were so obsessed with Harvey Dent's little squeeze, you forgot all about the poor little girl laying on the floor. Luckily_, I _didn't forget."

"So she's just another part of your game?"

"No no no no. Listen, do you play chess? I'm pretty good at it, except recently, because J likes to try and distract me…and she's very good at distracting. Anyway, everyone makes such a big deal trying to get the king. That's how you lose. The king's really kind of useless. Just maims along. No, the queen is the real power. With the queen, you can damn well take over. J is that queen. You forgot about her. I didn't. Now I have the most powerful piece on the board. You see? All those rules, and you still messed up"

Batman had apparently gotten sick of this rant, and grabbed the Joker around the neck, throwing him up against the wall.

"Where is Dent?" he shouted.

"So many rules, but you'll have to break them to save them." The Joker's face split into an insane grin.

Batman froze as the Joker's meaning sunk in.

"Them?" he repeated.

"You know, for a moment I thought you really were Dent, the way you threw yourself after her…" the Joker began, and was promptly smashed into the glass, shattering it everywhere.

--

Janna was counting down in her head.

"Dent is your white knight, isn't he Commissioner?" she questioned innocently, "What…or should I say, who, would you sacrifice to save him?"

Gordon face froze.

"What have you done?"

"You forgot all about me Commissioner. You and Batman. So will you forget her to save Dent?" Her voice lost all trickery, all pretense. It was deadly cold and calculating.

Gordon felt something n him snap, and he grabbed her by the hair, dragging her from her seat and shoving her against the wall, "Where is he?"

She moaned loudly, "Commish, if you're going to tug my hair, you have to yank straight down, really go for the pain. You know, I never had a thing for older men, but you might change my mind," she said in her huskiest voice, licking her lips.

Disgusted, he shoved her again, "Tell me where they are."

"Of course. That's the point. You'll have to decide who lives, and who dies." and her face lit up with an insane light.

--

Gordon stalked out of the room, nearly colliding with Batman.

"Who are you going after?" He shouted desperately.

"Rachel" was the snarled answer.

Gordon ran for the car, and drove madly, madly to save Dent.

--

Janna sat idly, twiddling her thumbs. The young cop put in charge of watching her was eyeing her carefully.

She would have thought him a diligent watchman, except he was mostly eyeing her cleavage.

_That could work,_ she thought.

"Like what you see there pudding?" she drawled.

The young cop started, somewhat taken aback.

"N-no. You're just a freak," he stuttered in answer.

"Freaks are always the most fun though," she mused.

The cop was confused. She didn't _look _dangerous. A little odd, sure, but she didn't look capable of murder. And with a body like that…well, how bad could she be? Maybe a little hyper-sexual…but she was probably just the Joker's toy, rather than his accomplice. And he couldn't ignore the very tempting swell of breasts spilling over her top.

"So are you the Joker's girl, like they say?" he couldn't help asking.

She looked at him levelly, "What do you think?"

"I think if he is," he smiled lecherously, "He's a lucky man."

Janna grinned, a slow smile crossing her face

"You have no idea." And she winked.

The cop grinned dumbly, and walked slowly towards her.

--

Janna kept the sharp blade pressed into the young cops throat as she dragged him out the door with surprising strength. She was surprised to see the Joker already out there, a knife similarly to another cop's throat, the cops surrounding him with their guns drawn.

"What do you want?" one yelled.

The Joker saw Janna standing across the room, and grinned.

"We just want our phone call."

The cops saw Janna now, and were torn about whom to point their guns at. Finally, one cop tossed the Joker his phone, and waited with terror as he dialed.

Janna pressed herself against the wall furthest from the holding cells, and shut her eyes, but kept her blade firm against the cop's neck.

The blast was strong, tearing through everything and sending the cops falling to the floor. Janna slit the cop's neck quickly, and came out, to see the Joker standing alone. They grinned merrily at one another.

He kissed her, quick, and gave her a little shove.

"Get a car. I'll go get Lau".

Janna jogged off in search of a car, and had it parked out front by the time the Joker came out, dragging a terrified Lau behind him. She laughed as he tossed Lau in the trunk like a rag doll, and insisted on sitting in the back so he could hang out the window like an over-enthusiastic dog.

They were going home.

--

**(A/N It's about to get REALLY twisted next, so hold on!)**


	18. Chapter 18

Lau was safely tucked away. Safe…for now. The Joker knew that Janna, with her mischievous grin, had plans for playing with Lau. It made him a little giddy to think how she'd make the little twirp squeal.

They were in his bedroom, going through the motions slowly, getting ready to sleep after what had been a very long, but very entertaining day. He walked into the bathroom with the intention of getting a shower, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hey boss, I wanted to ask you-"

The Joker, annoyed, walked back in the bedroom, wondering why the idiot was still speaking when he clearly was elsewhere.

But the idiot wasn't speaking to him. He was speaking to _Janna. _

_Janna….Boss._ As the implication of those words together sunk in, he felt a rage like he hadn't felt in months.

The stupid thug, seeing the look of familiar, insane anger on the Joker's face, smartly hightailed it out of there before a knife could be lodged into his head.

Janna just looked at him, an innocent expression upon her lovely face.

He crossed the floor to her in two strides, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall.

Janna yelped in surprise, and felt the weak plaster give way behind her head as he smashed her against the wall. Her vision clouded with black, and she shook her head trying to clear her sight.

"Was this your plan? Play with me, try and take over?" He was utterly snarling now.

She looked at him with shock.

_Was he insane? she thought._ Of course, she already knew the answer to that, but she didn't know he was this crazy.

She kneed him sharply in the stomach, forcing him to release her.

"You're freaking nuts! It's me and you, you idiot!" she answered, and reeled backwards as he hit her again, knocking her to the ground.

He grabbed her hair and twisted, forcing his weight on her to pin her.

"This is just a game to you? You're just playing till you get bored?" he growled.

She was too astounded to really struggle.

"Are you kidding me? Like I can ever walk away from this now?" she gasped.

He leapt off from her, looking down at her form laying on the floor, a look of complete disgust on his face.

"You'll walk away. With that pretty face, you could walk to Gordon, tear up a little, and tell him how the freak made you do it…tell him how I tortured and threatened you unless you gave in. He'd eat out of your hand and believe every damn word. They all would. With that face of yours…you could turn your back on me, and leave the fiend in makeup to rot in Arkham while you lived a merry life."

She was crying now, "No! No I swear!"

"When the thrill of fucking the monster with scars fades, you'll walk away," he spat down at her, and walked out of the room, out of the building, and into the night.

--

Janna lay huddled on the floor for several long moments, feeling the incredible sadness and shock running through her.

She had thought that finally someone knew her and understood her, without judgment, without fear. Someone who embraced the violence of her nature and the cunning of her mind, without the usual whining inferiority complexes most men developed. Instead, he was just like the others.

It was funny. This world thought that having a pretty face meant everything was handed to her on a silver platter. That everything came easy, that she could get everything she wanted. Janna was still waiting for the fucking gift she was supposed to be given for her looks. And what was the point? Beauty wasn't earned, it wasn't cultivated with good deeds. A simple game of chance decided looks. But still, everyone judged her on her face.

Even now, when she had turned her back on her whole world, he wouldn't accept her because her face made her different from him. Her face put her in the same crowd of "normals", not with creatures of the underworld like the Joker.

She sobbed to herself, the first time she had cried in ages. She dragged herself to her feet, staggering into the bathroom, intending to splash some water on her face. She turned the faucet, and as the water began to spurt from the ancient spout, she looked at herself in the mirror.

The flawless face. High cheekbones, straight nose, full lips, and the stunning, large eyes. What had it ever gotten her?

A sob shot through her body again, and a terrible feeling of self-loathing, filling her with raging adrenaline. She punched the mirror, shattering the glass in every direction, slitting her hand in the process. She was crying so hard she could barely see…except for the reflection of one silvery eye in a large broken piece of mirror. She picked it up, ignoring the sharp edges cutting into her skin, and looked at herself once more.

And with a quick sense of conviction, she raised the glass to her face, and began to carve.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a few hours before the Joker returned home. He was still angry, but that urge to kill her had left him. A few random citizens mulling the streets had felt the sharp edge of his knife instead, so Janna's throat would remain intact for a little bit longer.

He walked up the steps slowly, and entered the apartment with some hesitation, not quite willing to face her yet. The few thugs that had survived the blast and entertainment of the night were sleeping, some strewn on the worn carpet, moaning their injuries in their sleep, others so exhausted and in such pain they were sleeping upright in chairs. He ignored them for once, and with a deep breath, strode into the bedroom, a mocking smile on his lips.

He instantly knew something was wrong. Some instinctive part of him could smell the metallic spice in the air, and some deep sort of dread filled him.

"J?" He called, but there was no answer.

She wasn't in the bedroom, but the bathroom door was slightly ajar. With trepidation, he slowly pushed the door open, and for the first time in a long time, felt absolutely shocked at what he saw.

Janna was slumped over, her back against the tub, a large, bloody hunk of broken mirror in her much-lacerated hand. Her long hair was matted with drying blood, God, there was plenty of blood.

The rugs were covered in it, her skin stained with it. She had apparently passed out, from the pain, shock, or loss of blood, or maybe a combination of the above. He pushed back her sticky hair to get a look at what she'd done.

She'd carved her own face like a pumpkin, actually removing thin strips of skin. One slit from her hairline over her left eye, down to the jaw, in a deep, horrible looking cut. Other, smaller ones surrounded the eye, or slit from the cheekbones down. There was no rhyme or reason to the design; it was just random lacerations performed haphazardly, causing as much damage as possible to what had been a perfect canvas.

She had apparently been unable to finish the job, as one side of her face remained perfect.

_Stupid girl_ he growled to himself.

Wetting a wash cloth, he dabbed at the cuts. There would be no healing them, but he might be able to keep them from getting badly infected.

The cold water woke her up with a start. Her eyes opened slowly, and he breathed in sharply.

She had apparently managed to damage one eye as well, as the whites were flooded with red, making the silver glow from her face.

He stood up sharply, looking away from her.

She pulled herself up gingerly, almost drunkenly, to her knees. And falling forward on all fours, she crawled towards him slowly. He watched her, swallowing the lump in his throat, as she took his gloved hand in her own bloody palm, and kissed it, her now-scarred lips leaving traces of blood on the leather.

She looked up at him, and he felt like the maimed eye stared straight through him.

"I-I wanted you to know…I don't care about the scars," she trembled as she kissed his hand again, "And it's only you. There's no turning back now".

She slumped down again, too weak to keep herself upright, and wrapped her arms around his legs, pressing the mangled side of her face against his knees.

And looking down at her, he realized he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

**(A/N Yes, these two chapters were shorter than usual...I didn't want to combine them because they're both very important, and needed special emphasis...in my mind at least. And yes, there will be more coming, so keep checking for updates!)**


	20. Chapter 20

Janna lay fast asleep, damp bandages on her ruined side, pink with faint blood. The Joker lay quietly next to her, only he was fully awake, watching her sleep and mulling their situation.

Many people think murderers and the criminally insane are incapable of love. The Joker himself had believed himself devoid of that particular emotion.

Before, he had respected her. He had some admiration for her. He was amused by her. And he had certainly lusted for her. But to carve her face as she did….to put herself on her knees at his feet…well, that stirred something in him he hadn't thought existed. And if he was being honest with himself, it wasn't new. It had been steadily growing for some time.

He could never be described as tender, but he felt tenderness towards her. Seeing her now, curled up, looking so small and weak, he felt a very masculine urge to protect her and care for her. And when she turned over, like she did now, and unconsciously snuggled up to him just so, well….he didn't hate it. He actually kind of liked it.

He had no desire to try and decipher these feelings, no need to plan. Come what may, they were in this together….and he was glad to have her at his side.

--

Janna was, in fact, wide awake, but decided to be a sneaky female. What better way to find out a man's feelings then to pretend to be asleep and see how he reacts?

She fully expected to feel some sort of regret at ruining her face. But just like when she murdered that slimy mobster, she felt nothing but a grim sense of satisfaction. She had torn down her last safeguard, threw away her last lifeline to a normal life, and dedicated herself wholly to this path….this path with him.

She didn't know if she loved him. She had never been "in love" before.

But she did know that there was no limit to what she would do for him. She owed him. He had set her free from the grief and pain that had absorbed her life. Kill for him, slit herself open for him…Whatever he needed, she was willing. As long as she was at his side, she was happy.

With that thought, she snuggled to him, curving herself to his shape and resting her head on his chest. She expected him to stiffen or pull away, but he wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her closer.

And as she had done that one wonderful night, he kissed her softly, repeatedly, over her scars.

_Yes _she smiled, _we are in this together._

--

--

It was funny. With a flawless face, Janna felt ill at ease. With her new, mangled face, she finally felt comfortable, like the outside finally matched the inside. It ached something awful, though. That was something she had not thought about.

She winced in pain as the wounds stretched as she took another bite of cereal (Fruit Loops. He made fun of her, but she insisted on Fruit Loops. Something about Toucan Sam). She kept her eyes down, listening to the droning voices on TV, but she knew the thugs were staring. Some with blatant disgust, some with pity, for they thought her new scars were the result of the Joker's temper. She felt no need to correct that assumption. If they thought the Joker treated even her so poorly, they would be far less likely to sway.

And they needed their utmost obedience today. They had quite an itinerary for entertainment.

The Joker walked in and Janna nearly choked on a Fruit Loop, sputtering and coughing up milk.

He spun around like a practiced diva.

"What do you think?" he asked casually.

Janna eyed him with some amusement, but made a disgusted face.

"What? It isn't my color?"

"No, it's actually quite fetching. It's just that…well…you have better legs than me," Janna answered, jealously staring at his legs displayed in the nurse's uniform he was so happily wearing.

He looked down to admire himself.

"It's the calves. They give a nice curvy line to the whole look."

"You're a bit too comfortable in a dress there buddy,"

"Are you questioning my sexuality?" he asked angrily.

Janna appeared to mull the question over. Her face finally split into a wide grin, made somewhat sinister by the long scars on her face.

"I might be. I guess you'll have to prove it to me later," she replied, blowing him a kiss.

He leaned over her, nipping at her neck quickly, and whispered, "It's a promise" in her ear, before tying on his mask.

She laughed, and glanced at the news. Apparently, Reese-or-whatever was still alive. Couldn't anyone do anything right? She had to wonder at Gordon's rationale.

One life. Or a few hundred. To her, it was a simple choice. All for the greater good, and all that jazz. But for some reason, Gordon felt compelled to risk hundreds of lives for one useless sleaze ball no one would miss. He really needed to work on his priorities.

And people said the Joker was crazy.

"Are you ready to go, pet?" he asked.

She gulped down a last bite of cereal, and grabbed a roll of gauze. In the car, she wound the gauze around the ruined side of her face, and pulled on the paper thin gown so typical of hospitals.

With any luck, no one would notice the nurse with the great legs and the patient in leather.

--

As he strode out of the exploding hospital, he mulled the very obvious irony.

He had killed Harvey Dent's great love, and mangled Dent's face.

In the same night, he realized his own great love, and she mangled her face.

Coincidence? Karma? Whatever it was, the Joker was thoroughly amused. Dent seemed to lack perspective. He hoped he had provided him with some….insight. Maybe a plan.

Ah, but the good were often the same. The idealists, the do-gooders…hand them a big ol' tragedy, and they were looking for any kind of vengeance, even misguided vengeance that hit people who were completely unrelated.

Janna did it. Because her great friend had died and left her, she was willing to raise holy hell. He didn't think any less of Janna for it; in fact, he thought more. It showed great adaptability of character and creativity of mind. And if Janna could transform so boldly, well then, Dent should behave admirably.

He had a excellent hand to play now. He had a queen, an ace, and of course, Joker's are always wild.

He found it very hard to keep a straight poker face.

--

Janna sat impatiently on the bus, resting her head on the cheap vinyl, her hands twitching for the gun on her hip or the knife in her pocket.

The driver was beginning to panic. He had been given police orders to stay until the final patient was loaded, but he was sweating heavily and was shaking like a leaf. Glancing at the rear-view window, Janna saw the first of explosions, and saw the figure dressed in white walking jauntily toward the bus.

Laughing to herself, she took her knife and slit the driver's throat quickly, before anyone could react. As the passengers shrieked, she pulled her gun, and pointed it at various patients, silently keeping them in place. The Joker ripped open the back emergency door, and hopped up with surprising agility.

Striding forward, he pulled the dead driver aside and moved to take his place, and was pushed back by Janna.

"I'll drive!" she said merrily.

"You're a terrible driver. We'll never get there in one piece," he growled.

"Well, if you drive, we'll get lost. And you refuse to use a map. And you think the speed limit is set at 15 mph."

The Joker couldn't keep the smile off his face, as the terrified passengers looked at them in complete bewilderment and disbelief at the light banter. Their little squabbles seemed to scare the damn hostages more than the guns. Maybe it reminded them that even monsters can be human too.

"Fine, drive. But take the damned gauze off."

Janna pumped her fists triumphantly, and taking out her knife, slit the gauze open. She hummed to herself as she took the wheel, driving off to the next stage. Really, she took the wheel because she couldn't wait to get there.

She did love fireworks.


	21. Chapter 21

**(Author's note: Sorry for the long delay everyone! I had emergency (minor )surgery, and so have been out of commission. I'm okay, just drugged up on painkillers. I actually did start updating earlier when I took my meds…only I reread it when the painkillers wore off, and there was a large passage about an elephant and black lipstick….so I decided NOT to update with that version lol.**

**As my apology for the delay, I offer you this VERY adult chapter. Read with caution!**

**It's a last piece of romantic fluff, and my last chance to include sex, before Batman comes rushing in, so enjoy!)**

They walked up the framework of the up-and-coming building merrily, thrilled with the events of the day and looking forward to the more exciting main event. Janna and the Joker continued on to the top floor, where another set of thugs had already set it up for them.

As they entered, three massive Rottweilers sat waiting for them, snarling slightly.

"PUPPIES!" Janna shouted, flopping to the ground with her arms outstretched.

"J, NO! They're vicio-" the Joker shouted, but was interrupted by the dogs pouncing on her, licking her face as she laughed,.

"Only you could turn a vicious attack dog into a lap dog," he finished, slightly annoyed.

"You're just jealous," she giggled as she sat up, rubbing offered ears and bellies.

He grumbled under his breath, and walked to the corner, where a large black bag had been left for him. He pulled out his usual purple suit to change into, as meeting with the Bat dressed in a nurse's outfit (no matter how flattering it was to his figure) was not his dream for tonight.

Janna's laughter died as she watched him begin to unbutton the white dress. Standing quickly, she shooed the dogs away and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him while pressing herself against his back.

"Leave it on for a bit, we have a while before the show starts," she said huskily in his ear, her hands covering his to stop them from unbuttoning.

"Kinky little thing, aren't you," he asked, fully amused, "It's the dress, isn't it? I knew all girls had a cross-dressing, slightly bisexual fetish."

He turned and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply. She answered him hungrily, and reached for his wrists to gain control.

"Nope, not today girly," he grinned madly, "This is my show". He fought her hands, and instead snagged hers, shoving her roughly against one of the steel posts.

She moaned into his mouth, and his mouth moved to her neck, blessing the sensitive skin with nips and soft smears of red greasepaint. She gasped aloud as he bit deeply, hard enough to cause the skin to bruise on impact, almost breaking the skin over her collarbone.

She squirmed violently, desperately wanting to be an active participant. He pulled her flush against him, releasing her wrists to reach behind her, steadily undoing the laces of the corset she had been wearing under the hospital gown. Finally succeeding in undoing the snug garment, he tossed it aside, reveling the view of her and her perfect figure. He smashed his mouth on hers, grabbing behind her thighs, and lifted her with surprising ease. She wrapped her strong legs around his waist, hands snaking in his vaguely green hair, as his mouth captured her sensitive breasts and suckled there while she mewed in pleasure. She moaned openly, pulling him tighter with her legs, forcing him against her until he groaned with her.

Impatient now, he let her back on the floor, but she staggered and held onto him, shaky and weak with pleasure. The Joker reached for the snug pants quickly, before she could react, managing to unbutton them and tug the zipper before she could smack his hands away. She decided the best way to take advantage of her unstable state was too simply drop to her knees, reaching up his legs, under the skirt of the dress, to his most sensitive points.

"You skipped the boxers today," she said slyly, "I like it." Her face curved into a sexy smile, made sexier still (to him anyway) by the mangled lips on the one side.

"Yeah, well, I like a healthy breeze sometimes. Besides, with you, it saves time. After this, I may take up wearing dresses more regularly," he answered.

She giggled, and silenced him, by licking him from base to tip, like a particularly delicious ice cream cone she wanted to savor. She kissed the length of him gently, causing him to moan in frustration, until she finally slipped him into her mouth, sucking softly as she bobbed and swirled her tongue.

He allowed her continued ministrations for a few short minutes, but the combination of her, the very kinky feel of the dress, and the thrill of the impending events set him too close to edge, and he wanted to make sure she got her fill as well.

Shoving her away, he grabbed her again and yanked her to her feet, spinning her around roughly, briefly pawing at her breasts, and forced her over until she grabbed onto the steel pole for support. Swiftly, he tugged down the leather pants so that they pooled around her ankles, and quickly, without any pause or preparation, thrust himself into her.

She moaned loudly, gasping as he moved, pushing back against him eagerly. His one hand caught her hair, and pulled back to make her gasp, as he slammed her repeatedly, without any gentleness. He felt so deep, so strong, that her mind was swirling until she couldn't focus, couldn't think. His hands moved to grab her ass, to gain more leverage as he pounded her.

She yelped in surprise as he spanked her hard, and immediately moaned in pleasure and she arched her back and pushed harder against him, trying to take in more of him. One hand wrapped around her, finding her very sensitive spot, which he rubbed in time to his thrusts till she screamed. He could feel her contracting and squeezing him as she screamed, causing him to lose all control as he went over the edge, spilling into her with a yell.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting for breath. She straightened a bit, and he grabbed her hair again and roughly turned her head, kissing her forcefully.

"Well," he said gruffly, "Did I prove my sexuality to you like I promised?"

"Hmmm. I'm not entirely sure. You may have to try again later," she answered evilly, winking as she pulled away, and started to get dressed.

"Minx," he growled, and returned to his task of getting back into his suit.

Finally back in his proper suit, they both worked silently, quickly going through everything for tonight. As she marched quickly by him, he caught her arm and pulled her to him.

Catching the look of surprise on her face, he grasped her chin softly, and brought his mouth to hers, kissing her gently, tenderly, lovingly. She answered in kind, pouring every ounce of affection she had for him into the kiss, and it took his breath away. Her hands made their way to his face, tracing the scars by his mouth with care and fascination. His fingers mimicked hers, tracing the thick scar that ran the length of her face.

He pulled away gently, keeping her in his arms as he looked upon her, studying every feature. Finally, after a long moment, he kissed her gently over her scarred eye, and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he said, simply, quietly. He hadn't intended to say it, didn't expect her to react; he just felt compelled to let her know before the night truly began.

Her eyes shut quickly, as she fought the wild happiness rising in her chest. She forced them open, and saw him, his eyes shut as well, as he stayed close to her, relishing in the feel of her skin against his.

She held his face in her hands, and his eyes slowly opened too. She smiled slowly.

"_I_ love _you_, kiddo," she answered, "Always."

--

--

(**A/N**

**1.) The PUPPIES thing is inspired by me, who refers to all dogs, whether they be Doberman Pinscher or Cocker Spaniel, 1 month old or 10 years old, as puppies.**

**2.) The "healthy breeze" is from Harry Potter, Goblet of Fire, where a wizard attending the world cup refuses to wear normal muggle clothes. He instead insists on wearing a woman's nightdress, stating indignantly that he enjoys, "a healthy breeze around me privates." It always cracked me up, so I decided to work it in here. **


	22. Chapter 22

**(A/N So sorry for the delay! Life has been chaotic.**

**But here is the last chapter for this story. Yup, that's right, it has come to an end! I really appreciate all of the reviews and comments. Without them, there's no way I could have kept going!)**

The Joker stood at the edge of the building, wistfully staring at the ferries. The ultimate social experiment.

It was going to be a spectacular show.

His impatience was just getting to him as he heard the dogs growl deeply, erupting into loud warning barks. He grinned wildly, knowing without turning that the Bat had arrived.

"You came! I'm touched, honestly," the Joker whooped gaily.

"Where is the detonator?" Batman rasped.

Annoyed at Batman's refusal to engage in polite conversation, he shooed the dogs on to do their job. Snarling, their razor teeth bared, they leapt at the masked man, dragging him to the ground as he flailed to fight all three off.

Laughing as Batman wrestled with the piercing teeth, the Joker flicked out his knife, looking for his opening. Rushing forward, he managed to glance the blade, piercing a small piece of skin. Batman roared in pain, flinging off the last dog and seizing the Joker by the collar.

"Are you going to be a man and fight me now? You have no more dogs to hide behind!" he spit into the Joker's face.

The Joker just giggled.

"Oh no, I leave the fighting to my betters."

Batman was confused, until he felt that sharp stabbing pain over his shoulder.

_Janna_.

Batman felt incredibly stupid. He had completely forgotten about the girl in his mad dash to save those on the ferries.

Janna landed neatly from her pounce, turning and grinning madly. With a start, he noted her mangled face, still fresh and raw from new cuts. The blades in either hand glinted cruelly, angry sickle shaped blades that looked capable of inflicting several different kinds of pain.

It was a bare moment before she attacked again. His training was vastly superior, but she had the benefit of training for much longer, and she fought with a complete lack of sanity.

With a great effort, she swung the kama and grinned in satisfaction as she heard that familiar squishy sound of a blade sinking into its mark.

Batman groaned in pain, and not for the first time, thanked God for Lucius Fox for the thick armor he wore. The blade glinted against his skin, but did not fully penetrate as it would have. Recoiling from it, and with a new jolt of adrenaline, he grabbed her next swing of the blade, and backfisted her. As she staggered, he kicked her soundly in the stomach. She jolted back, and with a sickening crunch, hit her skull against one of the steel beams. She collapsed immediately, and was still.

For a brief instant, neither man moved, just stared at the form laying so very still on the floor. With a deafening shout, one of insane pain and rage, the Joker rushed at Batman, with a skill he did not possess under any normal circumstance. He kicked Batman back, sending glass shards flying as it shattered, and kicked out the wooden brace, causing the heavy steal beam to come crashing down on Batman's chest. Forcing his weight on the beam, further crushing the Bat, the Joker roared into his face.

"Don't want to miss the fireworks do we? SHE deserves her fireworks!" He was snarling. He could not see Batman or the ferries or anything but the image of her figure laying deathly still. Heard nothing but the crunch of her skull against the beam.

"There won't be any fireworks!" Batman growled, almost in a whisper as he struggled to get the beam off of him.

The clock chimed midnight, and Batman smiled victoriously as the Joker's expectant face fell in confusion.

"What were you hoping to prove? That everyone is as ugly as you and that little girl you carved? Even she's gone now. You're alone"

The Joker had never experienced an anger such as this. But forcing himself into a composed state, he sighed and grinned anyway.

"Can't rely on anyone these days. Have to do everything yourself. Speaking of which, do you want to know how I got these scars?"

"I know how you got these," Batman retorted, shooting the blades from his armor into the Joker's shoulder. The Joker reeled in pain, and was kicked over the edge.

He giggled maniacally, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of cool, swift air and the gorgeous view of lights swirling as he went. He was almost disappointed as his descent was stopped suddenly, pulled back up by the ever-honorable Batman.

_Well. Maybe a good time to tell him about Harvey Dent, _the Joker thought, chuckling to himself as he imagined Batsy's reaction.

"You just couldn't me go, could you? " he giggled as he taunted the Batman, decidedly not looking past the cloaked figure, not wanting to see her form huddled there.

"The people of Gotham will lose help. Once they get a look at the real Harvey Dent, and all the heroic things he's done. Then Gotham will truly understand heroism," the Joker said, his eyes sparkling again with anticipation, "You didn't think I'd leave the battle for Gotham's soul up to a fist fight with you and the lovely Miss J? She was a queen, but Harvey, Harvey's my ace in the hole."

"What did you do?" Batman asked, panicked.

"You always assume I did something. Did you ever think that people like Dent and my J…._want_ too? It wasn't hard. Madness is like gravity. All it needs is a little push."

Batman swept away, diving in pursuit of Dent, and the Joker's smile left his face. He clenched his eyes shut, refusing to look at _her. _

It was several long moments, when he heard a faint clank of metal. His eyes flew open, not daring to hope.

Janna was slowly moving, dragging herself up. She was groaning in pain, but she got to her feet. She staggered as she moved, but she righted herself and continued on.

She reached out to the Joker, pulling him into the safety of the building, and cut him loose. He flopped to the floor in an ungraceful heap, and reached out to her gratefully.

She smiled weakly, but her eyes were strong and twinkling.

"Why is it he always forgets about me laying on the floor?" she asked mischievously.

The Joker laughed, a deep, body-shaking laugh, one that's poke of relief, joy, and some triumph. He stood quickly and hugged her to him.

Their laugh died almost instantly, as they heard steps coming closer.

The SWAT team had arrived.

They looked at each other for a small moment, trying to decide if they should flee, fight, give up. A smile crossed her face again, wide and cocky. He grinned back, and they both pulled their guns, and turned, side by side.

"You know, you really did change m'dear. You became …something extraordinary," he told her, with real affection.

"All I needed was a push," she answered.

The SWAT team entered with a rush, and the Joker and his J laughed hysterically amid the shots and smoke.

--

The End!

Sequel? Who knows? I guess if people want more, I can always write more. My head is always full of ideas!


	23. Chapter 23

_Hey everyone,_

_I'm sorry for the false update notice, but I wanted to alert everyone, since many have been asking me what my plans are._

_I'm sorry for the long delay; with grad school and a brain block, I've had trouble coming up with an appropriate sequel._

_But lately, an idea has been growing in my head, and I'm mapping out the sequel as we speak. _

_So yes, there WILL be a sequel shortly (within the next 2 weeks I'll begin posting)_

_I'm really excited for it, so keep your eyes open!_

_Felix_


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